Beyond Grave
by mydeira
Summary: Some minor revisions, new stuff soon.
1. Prologue

All characters belong to Joss Whedon. What follows is for pleasure and not profit. And a fix til the next season (what addict doesn't need a fix?). This is my first fanfic, so be kind and R+R. All comments and suggestions welcome.  
  
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"Bloody hell," were the only words that came to mind when the demon fulfilled his wish, and they were the only words that came to mind for some time after.  
  
Now he was no different from the dark and brooding poof. He'd wanted to be rid of the chip, get back to the Big Bad he was before. Especially before her. It was one big cock-up from the get go. Not only couldn't he be all that he could be, but now he had a bloody conscience on top of it all. He was tormented by all that he had done in his glory days along with the fact that he could no longer do those things if he so chose. At least the nancy- boy hair-gelled poof had that on him.  
  
There was no way in hell he could go back to Sunnydale in such a state. And then there was that whole business in the bathroom that drove him to Africa in the first place. He was a dusted vamp walking if ever there was one if he ever thought of going back. 


	2. Homecoming

Sunnydale, CA. Home Sweet Hellmouth. Three months later, Spike found himself back where it all began—the last place on Earth he should be. But there was nowhere else. Be it ever so humble . . .  
  
Taking one last drag, he made up his mind to go on. All roads eventually lead back to Sunnydale, at least for him. Bloody hell.  
  
~*~  
  
The crypt was a dump. Empty wing buckets were stacked hap-hazardly around the room.  
  
"Make yourself right at bleeding home, Clem," he grumbled kicking a stray bucket. "'Ello? Eh, Clem, you here?" Silent as the proverbial tomb.  
  
Might as well clean the place up. It was nearly daylight; there wasn't much else he could do.  
  
~*~  
  
Clem came in just after Spike had cleared the place of over three months of wing buckets. Instead of berating Clem for the slob he was, Spike thanked him and sent him on his way.  
  
"Hey, welcome back," Clem smiled, ever his optimistic self.  
  
Welcome back to what?  
  
~*~  
  
He was making his way back from the butcher's shop that night when he noticed the door to his crypt was open. Setting his bag down, he carefully made his way in. Everything seemed in order.  
  
The next thing he knew, Spike found himself pinned on the floor with a stake to his heart.  
  
"Welcome back, Spike," spat the hate-filled voice above him. 


	3. Answers?

"Lil' Bit?" Silence. "Dawn?"  
  
"How dare you come back here!" It wasn't a question.  
  
So she knew. Of course she knew. He wasn't surprised and yet the way the Slayer tried to shelter the girl . . .  
  
"Does sis know you're out at this hour?"  
  
"As a matter of fact she does."  
  
"And I supposed she's also giving you leave to go patrolling all by your lonesome?"  
  
"Yes," she pressed harder.  
  
"So stake me and get it over with."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Me Vamp. You Junior Slayer."  
  
"I'm not laughing, Spike."  
  
"Nor am I. But if you don't ease up a bit, you'll be sitting answerless in a pile of dust."  
  
"You try anything . . ."  
  
"Yeah. Yeah. Ain't heard that one before," he mumbled brushing himself off.  
  
"So why'd you do it, Spike?" More hurt than angry now.  
  
Suddenly, Spike was very tired. No more games. Aside from Joyce, Dawn was the only one of the lot who had given him a fair chance. It was a good tin Joyce was dead. This was bad enough.  
  
"I was sick of it all. Sick of the restraint. Sick of the pain. Sick of being a failure . . . of being William again."  
  
"William?"  
  
"The poncy git I was back before Dru. Back when I wasn't fit to wipe another's boots. You would think that after all these years Cicely would stop tormenting me, that the pain would fade . . . Beneath her, bloody hell."  
  
"So you pay Buffy back for what some girl did to you a hundred and some odd years ago? Your ego gets hurt, so you strike out and hurt back?"  
  
"Junior Psychologist as well as Junior Slayer?"  
  
"Spike!"  
  
"You're old enough to know things ain't ever easy, Nibblet. You should know that what with living in this here town and all."  
  
"Former cosmic ball of energy, jilted vamp turned rapist. I can empathize completely.  
  
"Sarcasm must run in the blood." Catching her look, "Just stake me and be done with it. Nothing has got to be better than this. It's one big cock up."  
  
"This isn't like you, Spike."  
  
"Isn't like me? You don't even know me. I don't even know me anymore."  
  
~*~  
  
"Where have you been all these months?"  
  
"Africa. Then the world."  
  
"We could have used you here."  
  
"What another apocalypse?"  
  
"It was different this time."  
  
"Two apocalypses?"  
  
"It was Willow."  
  
"Red dabbling in the Magicks again?"  
  
"That's an understatement," and Dawn went on to tell him about Warren's shooting spree, Tara's death sending Willow over the edge, Warren's demise, Giles' return . . .  
  
"And the whelp saved the day?"  
  
"Xander's been there since they were kids. Back in the days when no one else took notice."  
  
"So how does you're new gig fit in with all of this?"  
  
"Buffy and I were trapped in an underground tomb, surrounded with the world ending around us . . . After it all, she finally realized that I could hold my own and that she can't always do it alone.  
  
"I thought you loved her, Spike."  
  
"I do, Dawn. Sometimes there are no reasons. Sick of being hurt, sometimes you do hurt back. Look at Xander and Anya. As much as I hate to admit it, I can sympathize with the bloke. And Red. She's right, love makes you do the wacky."  
  
"So, Africa . . ."  
  
"I went there to get fixed and got fixed right well."  
  
"The chip?"  
  
"Don't worry, Lil' Bit, ol' Spike's as toothless as ever." 


	4. Kitchen Converstation

"Dawnie, is that you?"  
  
She hadn't left Spike til sunrise. Dawn had been reasonably cautious of her new-found freedom, not trying to test the limits of Buffy's leniency in the last month that she'd been allowed out alone.  
  
"Buffy up yet?"  
  
"I don't think she's home. I-I don't think she's even been home."  
  
Since nearly ending the world, Willow had suffered from many sleepless nights and was prone to being overly sensitive to things. She rarely went outside and even then she never left the yard. It was over a month before she would even leave her room or speak to anyone. No one quite knew how to act around her, except Buffy who'd been in a somewhat similar predicament with the whole resurrection thing. Time and space, that was all they could give her. And their love and support.  
  
"And where have you been all night, missy," Willow pretended to be all stern. "Dust any vamps?"  
  
Part of the reason for Dawn's new freedom was due in part to the increase in vampire activity that summer. So far they had no leads as to why, though fortunately Giles was back and doing what he did best. Dawn's ability was quite evident from the start. Sharing blood with the Slayer was the only explanation aside from many occasions to watch Buffy in action.  
  
"Anything out of the ordinary?"  
  
"What is ordinary here?"  
  
"True. But something happened, didn't it, Dawnie?"  
  
"Nothing really. Just that . . . Spike's back."  
  
"Since when?"  
  
"A couple days at most. I went to see how Clem was and found the place deserted and uncluttered. So I waited around until Spike walked in. I wanted to stake him and yet I didn't want to. I had to know why he did what he did."  
  
"You shouldn't have been there."  
  
"There's something different about him, Willow."  
  
"He didn't try to hurt you, did he?"  
  
"No, says he's as toothless as ever. But there was something about him that was different. I can really say what, but there was something. Maybe it was his attitude. He seemed subdued. Defeated almost."  
  
"Did he tell you where he's been?"  
  
"Africa. 'One big cock up,' he said. Do you think I should tell Buffy?"  
  
"Not yet, I don't think. Especially with the working and slaying all hours. She's been restless this summer. She's always doing something. I'd say she sleeps less than me."  
  
"Something's bothering her."  
  
"But you know Buffy. We won't know until she lets us know."  
  
"Know what?" 


	5. Internal Struggle

"Buffy! He-hey!" both girls turned to see the Slayer standing in the doorway.  
  
"Know what?"  
  
"We-well . . . where have you been all night?"  
  
"Got held up by a few nasties down at the docks. How about you, sis?"  
  
"Oh nothing. It was quiet."  
  
"So you were home early then?"  
  
"Um, well, you see . . ."  
  
"You know how I feel, Dawn. When school starts up . . ."  
  
"I know. I know. But you have to admit it's been nice having me out there aside from the big sister worrying."  
  
"It was quiet last night, overall. Maybe it's just been the weather."  
  
"Yeah, because the vamps love all that California sunshine."  
  
"Very funny," Buffy yawned. "I think I'm heading up to bed. Grab a couple hours before work."  
  
She looked very tired.  
  
"How are you doing, Will?"  
  
"Oh you know me. I'm doing," the red-head smiled. "Go to bed. At least one of us should get some sleep."  
  
As Buffy left them, neither Dawn nor Willow commented on the familiar long, black leather duster that she was wearing, as she had been for the past few months.  
  
~*~  
  
Buffy collapsed on her bed. She was exhausted. But at least when she was exhausted she didn't think as much. It was a tiring but somewhat peaceful way to exist. Too much had happened in the past year. She was working past the whole life thing. It was good to be alive, but she missed that all encompassing sense of peace; who wouldn't? Being alive wasn't so bad thought. She had started to appreciate things more since the near- apocalypse. She wasn't ready to leave again.  
  
So living was fine, it was just dealing with certain things in life that she was having trouble with. Like Willow's rampage. The things Willow had done and said made Buffy see things in herself that she'd been trying to avoid. Hadn't she nearly killed her friends, struck out, tried to hurt them? And her power. It was tempting to give into it, test her limits. But she was afraid. What if she went too far?  
  
And then there was Spike. And then there was Spike. That was the one thing she really didn't want to think about. What he had done—no, tried to do . . . Itt was the worst, most terrifying experience she had ever been through. And yet, wasn't she to blame in part for it? No! Typical victim's thinking. She didn't deserve what had almost happened, no one did. But still, wasn't she to blame in part for letting things get to that point?  
  
Even after she had ended things, she still used him. She tried to hurt him and degrade him, punish him for what she felt, was afraid to feel. She wanted to hurt him so he couldn't hurt her. But he still did.  
  
There she was, thinking. Sleep wasn't coming. Might as well head to the Magic Box and work off some steam. She needed sleep, but she couldn't. Her thoughts were too restless. Maybe after an hour or so she could grab a quick nap before work. 


	6. Gossip

Two hours later, Giles walked in on Buffy still beating on the punching bag. She'd ran three miles before going to the Magic Box, then had started in on the bag and hadn't stopped.  
  
"Ahem."  
  
She stopped and looked at her former Watcher.  
  
"How long since you last slept, Buffy?"  
  
"What does that matter?"  
  
"Dawn tells me you haven't been home for at least the past two nights."  
  
"And she would know that how?"  
  
"Buffy, both you and I know she can hold her own. She's more capable than you like to  
  
admit."  
  
She sighed resigned.  
  
"And things have been relatively quiet lately, haven't they?"  
  
"For the most part."  
  
"So, what's on your mind, Buffy? You work the hardest when you're trying to avoid something. You have great dedication for all the wrong reasons at times."  
  
"Giles. I'm fine, really. Just haven't felt like sleeping much."  
  
"You know you don't have to be afraid to talk to me, Buffy."  
  
"I appreciate the concern, Giles, but I'm fine."  
  
He shrugged and began to walk off.  
  
"Giles, I'm glad you're back."  
  
"There's a certain charm about Sunnydale that makes living anywhere else seem a trifle dull."  
  
~*~  
  
"Still beating herself up, huh?" Anya asked as Giles entered from the back. "You know what she needs?"  
  
"Anya, I don't think—"  
  
"She needs to get laid. Nothing clears the head like a good—"  
  
"Anya, please!"  
  
"Well, it never hurts," she shrugged. "Seriously, though, she needs to let go."  
  
"Anya . . ."  
  
"Oh and I'm the one frowned upon. You Brits are more in the gutter than anyone else. But for your information, Giles, I just meant that she needs to face what's bothering her. Buffy has some major rage emanating off of her. Not Wicked Willow caliper, but some pretty heavy wrath."  
  
"Toward whom? Spike?"  
  
"That would be the obvious choice. But no, this isn't really directed toward him or anyone but herself. I could wreck some big time vengeance if she had it channeled at someone other than herself."  
  
"Any ideas?"  
  
"I'm not a mind reader, I just tune into vengeancy feelings. My bet is she's avoiding something that's been bothering her for sometime. Something she's afraid to admit. But Buffy, avoid? That's not like our Slayer now is it?" she couldn't repress a slight giggle.  
  
~*~  
  
"So, what menial task have you got for me today, oh vengeful one?" Dawn sighed.  
  
"Well, little one, you'll be pleased to know that your servitude has been over for about two weeks now."  
  
"Passing up on free labor? Anya, are you feeling alright?"  
  
"Don't make this any harder for me than it is," Anya sighed, handing Dawn a check.  
  
"For me?"  
  
"And you can work towards more after school and on the weekend if you so desire. Join the rest of us in the world of paying for what we want."  
  
"Are you serious? This does cut into the money that comes in. You are aware of that, right?"  
  
"Sadly, yes. But necessity calls for it. The vengeance gig takes up quite a bit of my time and since you are already trained and not prone to being scared off by the unusual occurrence . . ."  
  
"You are so cool!" Dawn embraced her reluctant boss.  
  
"So what's up with Buffy? It's not like it isn't obvious to anyone with any sense. The girl is driving herself to exhaustion trying to avoid dealing with something. And you being the little sister and all . . ."  
  
"Honestly, Anya, I have no idea."  
  
"Nothing?"  
  
"Buffy's more silent than an unoccupied tomb when it comes to her problems. You pick up on anything?"  
  
"Aside from extreme anger at herself and internal conflict, I've got zilch."  
  
"How has she been toward you?"  
  
"Pretty amicable, actually. Not that she ever like me much to begin with, but I'd almost have to say that she's been nicer to me since the discovery of the trio's cameras. Oh and what's with the coat?" 


	7. Pizza and a Movie

Willow opened the door.  
  
"Pizza and a movie?" Xander offered her his gifts.  
  
"'Dracula'?"  
  
"Ah, come on, Will, it's old school with Boris Karloff. Cheesy black and white, complete escapism. What do you say?"  
  
"I'd say that better be an extra-large pizza. I'm starving for some pizza goodness."  
  
Since their showdown, Xander had been more attentive toward Willow than the rest. Always popping in out of the blue. Lately he had taken to ringing the doorbell whenever he came to the house, or just calling to say hi. In part he was trying to make up for lost time, the two best friends had grown apart in recent years. He wanted Willow to know that she would never be alone or insignificant, at least in his eyes. He'd wasted too much time on Xander and look where that had gotten him. He'd blown two good relationships. He wasn't about to destroy a third, the most important one.  
  
"The Summers girls out saving the world again?"  
  
"Well if you call working fast food and tending to Magic Shop customers saving the world . . ."  
  
"Dawn still working off her debt?" Xander asked casually, popping the tape into the VCR and making himself at home on the couch.  
  
"So I suppose I get the floor?" Willow smiled.  
  
"Oh wait, I think there may be an inch or two to spare right about here!" he pulled her onto his lap.  
  
"Xander Harris, didn't you mother ever teach you how to behave!"  
  
"Oh, I forgot, you're ticklish, aren't you?"  
  
"Don't you dare!"  
  
"Look," he said, poking her in the side repeatedly, "I think I dare."  
  
"Turn about's fair play, mister," she turned and began poking him.  
  
"You guys heard from Buffy tonight?"  
  
~*~  
  
Dawn hadn't wanted to disturb them. Willow laughing was too important of a thing to interrupt. She almost looked happy. Good for her. But Dawn needed to know where Buffy was before she went out for the night, so she could avoid her if possible.  
  
The friends looked up, still giggling.  
  
"Saved by the Dawnster for the moment," Xander laughed.  
  
"Do you know how late she's working tonight?"  
  
"Flipping burgers til midnight, I think," Willow slid next to Xander. "Want to share in some pizza goodness. We've got old-school 'Dracula' on the menu. Always good for a few laughs."  
  
"I figured I'd go out on an early patrol, maybe save her some extra work after work."  
  
"Can't tempt you with a few hours of slacking?" Xander held up a less than sturdy piece of pizza.  
  
"No I should get out. Make sure the recent calm in activity isn't up."  
  
"More pizza for us then."  
  
"I should be home early tonight. I need sleep, if no one else around here seems to."  
  
~*~  
  
After she had gone, Xander looked quizzically at Willow.  
  
"Oh you know Buffy, driving herself as hard as ever. Thinks sleep is for wusses."  
  
"How about you, Will?"  
  
"It's overrated, sleep," she smiled. "But hey, I've got a new hobby."  
  
"Breaking into government secret files again?"  
  
"I said new hobby. But yes that too."  
  
"So . . ."  
  
"Painting. Just a bunch of colors mushed together, but it's kinda fun."  
  
They sat in silence for a moment. Then Xander spoke, "What's Dawn up to now? She seems to be in Detective Mode."  
  
"You got that too?"  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
Willow shrugged.  
  
"What's going on, Will. You know something."  
  
"M-m-me? No! Clueless as the rest," she laughed nervously.  
  
"Willow, you know something."  
  
"Can't say. How about that movie?" she said, grabbing a slice of pizza. 


	8. Insight?

"Come to stake me again, Lil' Bit?"  
  
Dawn held up her empty hands.  
  
"Well?"  
  
"Spike, did you by any chance leave your black leather coat behind?"  
  
"Haven't seen it since I left. Searched the place, but no luck. Clem probably destroyed it and didn't want me to know. Like it bleeding matters."  
  
"But wasn't it like a trophy from one of the Slayer's you killed?"  
  
"I fancied it a bit. The girl had style."  
  
"You were always wearing it. I thought it would be something you missed."  
  
"I liked the thing. We've been through a lot."  
  
"Hmm."  
  
"What's with the sudden interest in my former articles of clothing? You seem more attached to it than I was."  
  
"No," she forced a laugh. "I thought I saw one like it the other day and was wondering if it could be the same."  
  
He shrugged.  
  
"Well, okay then. Thanks. Bye"  
  
"Dawn, is something the matter?"  
  
"Matter? Nope, nothing the matter here," she smiled, backing toward the door.  
  
"Something's wrong with your sister, isn't there?"  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
How could she deny it? She might as well come clean.  
  
"Wrong? With Buffy? Hah-ha. What gives you that idea?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know, maybe the whole junior detective act and the whole 'must leave now because he's onto me' thing you're doing right now. You don't play poker much, do you?"  
  
"With kittens?"  
  
Spike rolled his eyes.  
  
"It's probably nothing."  
  
"Yeah, and I have no right. But you're here anyway. So what's up, Platelet?"  
  
"Buffy doesn't sleep, at least that we know of. She's always on the go, even when she's not working or slaying. It's almost like she's afraid to be alone with herself. And Anya thinks there's something that Buffy's afraid to face. We're all at a loss.  
  
Still seeking ol' Spike out as a last resort, some things never changed.  
  
He had an idea or two what might be bothering the Slayer. And he'd tried time and time again to get her to face it. The sheer frustration of her stubbornness drove him to distraction. First Anya, then the bathroom. Both inexcuseable. Talk about a cock up. But the Anya incident had shown him that there were feelings there. Carefully locked away. He had hurt her with what he had done. Then he turned around and hurt her again, even worse. He didn't need a soul to have a conscience. That's what Buffy had given him and what he'd wanted to get rid of in the desert. The chip was just a convenient excuse. Be careful what you wish for indeed. It had taken every bit of restraint he had to not start writing poetry again. Then he was doomed.  
  
"Spike, are you okay?" There were so many emotions playing across his face, but mainly anguish.  
  
"I didn't need a bleeding soul, I already had one."  
  
"Spike?"  
  
He looked up toward the door. "Your sister's here."  
  
"Here here?"  
  
"Don't look so terrified, Lil' Bit. She's out prowling in the yard."  
  
Dawn looked at him.  
  
He ignored it. "If you know what's best, take the sewers back. I wouldn't think Big Sis would be too pleased to find you here."  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"I can hold my own as always."  
  
"But she'll—"  
  
"Remember—big evil vamp, staking good for me."  
  
"Spike, maybe you should—"  
  
"Go!" 


	9. Another Piece

Buffy pushed open the door. Why she came here of all places, even she wasn't sure. It was the last place she should be. But it was the only place that she felt completely safe and protected from prying friends. She'd gone there on a couple other occasions over the past months when Clem was away. Oddly, it was the only place she could stop thinking long enough to fall asleep. Wouldn't Spike get a kick out of it, her finding refuge in his of all places.  
  
Clem must of got sick of the mess he'd been living in, the place was almost immaculate. She ignored it and stumbled on toward the bed. Always was a comfortable bed, the few times they'd ever made it that far. She sighed as she made herself at home.  
  
~*~  
  
Spike watched the Slayer while she slept. Very interesting indeed. His attention was caught by a certain black coat that Buffy happened to be wearing. Ever the masochist. Bloody hell. 


	10. Bathroom Revisited

She really needed to cut back on the comments and pay more attention to her game. Of course it was a nice solid tombstone that broke her fall. If it weren't for the quick healing that came with the slaying gig, things would really suck. Nothing a nice hot bath wouldn't fix. Dawn was out and Willow and Tara were otherwise occupied—so Buffy could count on some serious and much needed alone time.  
  
It's odd when you're tired how something as simple as water running can capture you're complete attention. The tub was nearly full before Buffy realized that she wasn't alone. There was only one person who it could be.  
  
"Spike, I'm really not in the mood for this tonight," she sighed, turning off the water.  
  
The vampire lazed sullenly against the wall.  
  
"Really, there is no point. We both know how this is going to end. So why don't you leave before either of us does something we'll regret."  
  
"You know I can't do that, love," he walked over to her. "Besides it's all been done."  
  
"Please leave. I don't want to go through this again."  
  
"That's up to you, isn't it, Slayer?"  
  
"I told you, Spike, I'm not in the mood for this. Can't you give me one night of peace?"  
  
"It's not me who's disturbing it. You're afraid still, you know, to feel. You got scared the moment the numbness started to fade."  
  
"I just want to take my bath."  
  
"When are you going to stop running, Buffy? Aren't you tired yet?"  
  
"I'm not . . . I can't . . ."  
  
He put his hands on her shoulders. "Why are you making things so hard for yourself?"  
  
She didn't pull away. "It's just easier this way."  
  
"Easier for whom?"  
  
"There's just less pain this way."  
  
"You ended things, but you still got hurt."  
  
"But I left you before you could leave me. They all leave me in the end. What's the point?"  
  
"I'm sorry about everything, Buffy. Pain seemed to be the only way to reach you. I went to far, but I was desperate."  
  
"It's all my fault," she began to cry. "I can't help feeling that I drove you to it."  
  
"Maybe you did and maybe you didn't. It doesn't excuse what I've done."  
  
"But haven't I done pretty much the same for you? All I do is try and hurt you because it's safer that way."  
  
They stood there for what seemed like an eternity.  
  
"I wish things were different," Buffy said sadly. 


	11. The Morning After

Buffy awoke with a start. Not again. This is why she didn't sleep. Not only did her thoughts go places she didn't want to, her dreams did as well. She needed to get home before any one would miss her. Hopefully it wasn't day yet. The old trouble with vamps excuse ought to cover.  
  
~*~  
  
It was 8 a.m. when Buffy crept into the house. In the living room, Willow and Xander were asleep comfortably on the couch. Willow asleep, it was good to see and she looked almost peaceful. She continued on up the stairs, looked in on Dawn who was fast asleep, then went to her own room.  
  
Buffy had taken off her coat when she noticed a piece of paper sticking out of the pocket. Curious, she pulled it out and read it:  
  
  
  
masochistic beauty  
  
sleeping 'neath walls of stone  
  
refuge from prying eyes  
  
tortured by denial  
  
of what you know is true  
  
yet still you seek out reminders  
  
of that which you rue  
  
  
  
She had been alone in the crypt; she had to have been. If anyone had been there, she would have known. If Spike had been there, she would have known. And he was gone far away, not heard from since . . . But who and how?  
  
"Buffy, you just get in?" Dawn asked standing in her doorway.  
  
Buffy shoved the paper into the coat pocket. "Um, yeah, busy night and all."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Oh, you know, around."  
  
"You seem a bit on edge, did something happen?"  
  
Buffy was saved having to answer by Willow calling from downstairs, "Anybody interested in some pancakes? Xander's cooking, so be forewarned."  
  
~*~  
  
"So when did you make with the cooking skills, mister?" Willow asked, finishing off her second plate.  
  
"We men do do other things in our spare time besides watch sports and drink beer."  
  
"These aren't half bad, Xander," Dawn smiled.  
  
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, kid." He looked at Buffy, absently pushing her food around her plate. "How bout you, Buffy?"  
  
"'Masochistic beauty/ sleeping 'neath walls of stone'?!" she mumbled.  
  
The other three looked at the Slayer. She didn't look as tired as she had been, but she was very distracted. And what was she mumbling?  
  
"Buffy?" Dawn tried.  
  
"Huh?" she looked startled.  
  
"Are you sure you're okay?"  
  
"Present and accounted for."  
  
Willow made the next attempt, "What were you saying about 'masochistic beauty'?"  
  
"Um, nothing. I, uh, need to get going to the Magic Box," she rushed out the door, leaving them speechless. 


	12. Internal Interlude

Bloody hell. What had possessed him to put the bloody poem in her pocket? Odd how she didn't sense him there, vamp-slayer connection and all. She did look pretty worn out, though. Unlike the Scoobies, Spike at least had an idea about what was troubling the Slayer.  
  
If only he hadn't made such a cock-up of things. Just before she had awoken, Buffy muttered something that immediately caught his attention: "I wish things were different." Very interesting indeed. Spike felt it was time he went out and did some investigating of his own.  
  
~*~  
  
What was she doing? Obviously the others were going to see that something was wrong with her. Maybe she did need more sleep. If they'd known where she'd been that night . . . Maybe there was something to the whole asylum thing after all. If not before she belonged in one now. Sleeping in her vampire ex-lover and attempted rapist's crypt—the poem was right; she was a masochist.  
  
Buffy had to know if Spike was back. If he was . . At this point she wasn't quite sure what she would do if she saw him. But if he had been there in the crypt, why hadn't she known? 


	13. Back in the Kitchen Part I

Willow was in the kitchen baking cookies. At least she wasn't on a baking binge like the time Oz had left her and she'd gone a bit over the edge. Giles blind, Xander a demon magnet, and Buffy and Spike all over each other—maybe she had been onto something then (at least with the last one).  
  
It was a wonder that they didn't' lock her up after what she had done this time. The power had been so immense. Aside from Tara, it was the first time she had ever felt complete. And it was the fist time she felt that she had come into her own. In spite of all she had done to hurt her friends, Willow found it hard to see having all that power as wrong. She hadn't used it in quite the right way (but no one could justifiably say that Warren hadn't gotten what he deserved) and the whole ending the world thing was going a bit far, but grief can cloud your judgment a bit. Love does make you do the wacky.  
  
True, she did have a problem controlling the Magicks, but she had pretty much taught herself. Maybe if she could get an instructor. Giles had gotten his power from a big-time coven in Dublin; they might be able to help her. If Slayers got Watchers and the Council, why couldn't Wiccas have something similar? She had just gone about things in the wrong way. But her friends would never go for that. To them the Magicks had nearly destroyed her and them. But with guidance, maybe just maybe . . . She needed to win back their trust or at least prove that she could handle the power. She was a Wicca; it was her calling. There had to be a way.  
  
Just as the timer went off on the oven, there was an urgent knocking at the backdoor. Not even thinking while she was getting the cookies, Willow called out, "Come in."  
  
A blanketed Spike opened and slammed the door quickly behind him. When Willow realized who her visitor was, she nearly screamed.  
  
"You should know better, Red, inviting unknown parties in and all."  
  
"You—you shouldn't be here, Spike."  
  
He looked around, uncertain, "Just you, isn't there?"  
  
"Yes." Again with the not thinking.  
  
"I can leave, if you'd rather."  
  
"Huh?" Spike barging in, then acting polite. Something was up, but it didn't seem too horrible at the moment.  
  
"It's not like you need any more trouble."  
  
"No, stay. Well, maybe you shouldn't. But . . . Want a cookie?" Dawnie was right, there was something different about Spike.  
  
"Actually, yeah," he grabbed a handful. Blood just wasn't enough any more, not that it had really ever been. Actually, now he found it quite disgusting—drinking another's blood was quite nasty when one got down to it. Must be that poncy git William asserting himself again. And the poetry . . . "Bloody hell."  
  
"Spike? I'm sure you didn't come here for my cookies, tasty as they are. I know Dawnie's been to see you."  
  
He nearly choked.  
  
"It was pretty obvious that something had happened when she got in the other day. The kid may be a pro at shoplifting, but she could never play poker. And of course, Buffy doesn't know, yet."  
  
"I figured as much. I couldn't see her waltzing in—nevermind. How's she been the past few months? Nibblet's gone all Junior Detective over it."  
  
"You know Buffy (probably better than the rest of us this last year), she's an enigma much of the time. Dawn's told you all about the all work, no sleep regimen Buffy's adopted? But we're all at a loss. This morning was sorta scary."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yeah, she was mumbling something about a masochist and a beauty or something."  
  
"Masochistic beauty."  
  
"That's it! How—"  
  
"I think I read it somewhere. Has a familiar ring to it."  
  
Willow shrugged, "Anyway, when we pressed her, she ran out. Haven't seen her since."  
  
So she'd read the poem. Idiot, he berated himself. But it seemed to have made an impression.  
  
"Willow, you aren't baking again, are you?" called a voice from the front of the house.  
  
If Spike could turn any paler, he would have. Buffy was home. 


	14. Back in the Kitchen Part II

"How many weeks are we going to be eating cookies this time?" Buffy laughed as she came in the kitchen.  
  
"Only made one batch, so less than a day," Willow returned, glancing nervously around the kitchen. It was vain to hope that Spike was gone; he was just well-hid somewhere. She never could get used to the quick appearing/disappearing act that vampires did. Now you see them, now you don't. If she had been thinking today, Willow would have told Spike to leave when he asked her if he should, but curiosity had gotten the better of her. "So, the Magic Box in order?"  
  
"I'm really sorry about running out like that earlier, but I just needed some space."  
  
"Hey, no biggie. Xander's pancakes really weren't that good."  
  
"Is Dawn home?"  
  
"Working at the Magic Box. Why?"  
  
"I just thought I heard you talking to someone."  
  
"Me? Uh, I was talking to me."  
  
Buffy grabbed a couple cookies and was about to leave the kitchen, when Willow blurted out: "What would you do if Spike was back?"  
  
Buffy stopped and turned.  
  
"Hypothetically, I mean. A for instance," Willow strained. The brain to mouth connection definitely was on the fritz today.  
  
"Honestly, Willow, I don't know," Buffy shrugged and continued out. "I think I'm going to go take a nap."  
  
~*~  
  
Making sure Buffy was out of earshot, "Spike? Spike?! You still here?"  
  
Willow turned around and there Spike stood before her. It was all she could do to stifle a yelp of surprise. "She doesn't look well."  
  
"Don't you—vampires make any noise?"  
  
"Trick of the trade," he smirked. "I see why Lil' Bit's turned Columbo."  
  
"Not a peep from Buffy. It's all evasion and excuses."  
  
Spike considered a moment, then thought better of it. "How have you been, Red?"  
  
"Better than Buffy, it seems. But honestly, it sucks. They try to act differently, but I know they don't trust me. Two strikes, want me to avoid a third. What really bothers me is that most the time it seems like they pretend that none of it happened. No one mentions Tara. Afraid it'll set me off or something."  
  
"And people say California is a healthy place to live."  
  
"Maybe if you're not on the Hellmouth."  
  
"You should get out, get a change of scene," he almost laughed at the irony in his saying that. "Not that it does much good."  
  
"I'm afraid . . . if I leave, I won't be back."  
  
Spike looked at her. Red wasn't as subdued as they all thought.  
  
"I can't believe I'm telling you of all people this, but maybe it's because you might understand. There's no going back to what I was before—Willow before the Magicks. She's been gone for a while. I can't pretend to be what I'm not, that I haven't changed. There's things I need to find out and I have an idea of how things should be, but I don't think anyone else would understand that. To them: Willow + Magicks = Bad."  
  
"Why don't you leave, Red? Even the stoic one left, didn't she? Sometimes in running away, we find ourselves and what we're looking for, even if things don't turn out quite as we expect. I'm the last one you should be taking advice from. Even at your worst they still love you, so what have you got to lose?"  
  
With that, Spike grabbed his blanket and went out into the daylight. 


	15. Resolution?

The crypt was a shambles, but he was still there, absorbed in cramming all his necessities into one bag. Like a predator with its prey, she stalked up behind him, waiting until the last possible moment, to pounce and catch him unawares.  
  
He was pinned to the ground, at her mercy. "Come to finish me off, eh, Slayer? Can't say as I blame you."  
  
She back-handed him across the cheek. "You bastard! You useless coward! You do what you did and you still wonder how I can't possibly love you?!!"  
  
"You gonna stake me or berate me into oblivion?" he tried to shift underneath her. "Cuz we've already been through this before, luv. What's the sense in going through it all again?"  
  
Buffy responded by pressing him harder, making any further movement impossible.  
  
"Do something before I fall asleep, Slayer. Ball's in your court."  
  
Thinking had gotten her nowhere, so Buffy gave herself over to instinct and acted. She took the stake and tossed it across the crypt. As she got up, she pulled Spike with her. Staring him defiantly in his crystal blue eyes, she took on deep breath of resolution, and in one swift motion, savagely attacked his mouth with her own.  
  
Before he could react, she shoved him backwards, causing him to land on the ground. Again she had him pinned and was staring at him, her face blank of all emotion. "What do you want, Spike?"  
  
"I want to know what game you're bloody playing at, Slay—"  
  
She kissed him again with full force. When she broke off again, her face was anything but blank. "I can't even stand to be near you," she kissed him once more. "Why don't you just leave me alone?!" She ripped his shirt and traced one nail around his chest til it came to rest over his one mortal spot. "It's simple, really, all I need to do is stake you and I'll be free, forever. I've done it before and I'll do it again."  
  
The woman was driving him to the brink with her contradictions. Words and tone were all a contradiction. In fighting him, she was fighting herself. All he wanted to do was take her, right then and there. But she wouldn't let him and he knew it was up to her. He had said it himself; the ball was in her court.  
  
"Hard as I try, I can't seem to make you go away. You're always there, lurking on the edges. I can make the others leave me, but you just won't go," she was nearly breathless. "And I want you like I've never wanted anyone else. You've known what I refuse to acknowledge." With that, she rolled so he was on top of her. That was all it took. Spike acted and both were lost amidst a tangle of limbs and clothes. Buffy had fought herself, coming out both the victor and defeated. And it no longer mattered. 


	16. To Sleep Perchance to Dream

Buffy sat bolt upright in bed. No. No. No. This was why she didn't sleep. When she slept, she dreamt; and when she dreamt, she dreamt of Spike.  
  
Buffy got up and began pacing about her room. Damn Freud, he had ruined dreams for everyone. Window into the unconscious. Couldn't they just mean nothing?! She knew better than that. Her dreams had always meant something. The black coat caught her eye. A book could be written on that subject in and of itself. Spike was the last person she wanted to think about, and yet she had been running around in his coat every since he'd left. Nothing wrong with that.  
  
She went over and picked up the coat. It had belonged to a former Slayer, so in a way it was rightfully hers. That was a lie and she knew it. No sense in trying to justify things. The coat was Spike's. That was why she kept it. That was why she wore it.  
  
If she could find him, she could resolve things once and for all.  
  
Buffy noticed a piece of paper sitting on her dresser, much like the one that she had found in the coat pocket earlier. She went over and opened it. Another poem.  
  
you run but you cannot hide  
  
from secrets buried deep inside  
  
your mind impenetrable  
  
seek solace in shadows sable  
  
from prying queries  
  
that you can never appease  
  
There was no longer any doubt in her mind.  
  
"Ask and ye shall receive," she smirked as she threw on the coat. Buffy was done running. 


	17. Leaving

"I thought I should come by at least once," Willow spoke softly to the little white gravestone that marked where her love lay. "I just couldn't come before and e-even now I . . ."  
  
She wiped her cheeks at a loss for words. Underneath the sadness, the rage and anger still kindled. It flared briefly, the wind beginning to gust and swirl around her. But after a moment she pushed it down and the wind died out.  
  
"For the first time in my life I wasn't stuck on the sidelines," she sighed, bending down to pick a few stray weeds. "Everything made sense finally. There is a reason behind all of the suffering and the pain whether we choose to see it or not.  
  
"I think you knew all along that I couldn't give the Magicks up forever. But I wasn't ready for them. There's so much I need to learn though. The power has always been there, I just have never known quite what to do with them."  
  
Willow got up and brushed her skirt off. For an instant she thought . . . she shook her head, wishful thinking. "They won't understand at first why I have to go, but they will. Keep an eye on them for me."  
  
She began to make her way out of the cemetery, then stopped.  
  
"Willow." It was no more than the whisper of a breeze, but it sounded like . . .  
  
"Tara?" Willow turned, hopeful. Just to the right of Tara's headstone, fainter than a fading rainbow—she blinked; there was nothing there.  
  
Willow looked around one last time, "Bored now." And with that she turned and made her way out of Sunnydale. 


	18. Face to Face

Tired of running, yes, but was she ready to face him after everything? Buffy sighed, leaning her head against the crypt door. If she was ever going to get a decent night's sleep, she needed to do this and get it over with.  
  
"Slayer."  
  
Buffy turned to see Spike watching her intently. She wasn't ready.  
  
~*~  
  
He was half tempted to run off when he'd seen her there. He was back because of her. For good or ill the time had come to let the chips fall where they may.  
  
~*~  
  
She stood there staring at him. She could stake him, run, or see this through. The first two were out of the question and she knew that, but that didn't make doing the last one any easier.  
  
~*~  
  
It was Buffy's move. The ball was in her court. She had sought him out. All he could do now was wait.  
  
~*~  
  
Maybe sleepless nights were worth it after all. She wasn't ready, but had she ever been ready for anything that happened in her life? He was waiting for her; it was her turn in this game of theirs. She took a deep breath and said the first thing that came to her, "I'm sorry." 


	19. A Surprising Situation

"I'm sorry," she said, taking them both by surprise.  
  
The silence was deafening. Of all the things Buffy could have said at that moment, "I'm sorry" was the last thing Spike ever expected to hear come out of her mouth.  
  
"I've never given you a chance, have I?" she continued slowly.  
  
He had to be dreaming. If there was one thing the Slayer never did (at least with him), it was to concede. She may never be completely right, but she was never wrong.  
  
"Even after everything he did, I still gave Angel a chance."  
  
Did she have to bring that brooding wanker into this?  
  
"Maybe it's because I knew him as good before I saw the evil. Whereas with you, I—"  
  
"Once a soulless Big Bad, always a soulless Big Bad, eh, Slayer?"  
  
"Spike, please let me finish," she pleaded. Apologizing to Spike had been the last thing she intended to do when she set out that night. It was hard to do, but it was the right thing to do. She had been afraid to acknowledge certain things, afraid of what they might mean.  
  
"It's too little, too late, I know," she sighed. "I don't like needing people. I'm the Slayer, the Chosen One. One, alone, do it all by myself. And when I fall in love, I wind up devastated and alone soon after. So why open myself up to that pain again? What feels so right has to be wrong if it destroys me in the end. You made me feel again, Spike. And when I began to feel too much . . ."  
  
"You withdrew and pushed me away," he shrugged noncommittally. This was nothing new to him, but you can't make a person see what they refuse to until they choose to see it. Even when the truth is blindingly obvious to everyone else.  
  
"I need you to forgive me, Spike. It's a lot to ask, and I understand why you wouldn't. I can't. But if I mean anything to you anymore, whatever the sentiment . . ."  
  
He walked slowly over to her, holding her gaze the entire time. "I think we've both done our share. What I tried to do, however, can't be forgiven."  
  
"And what I've done to you isn't as bad?"  
  
He considered a moment, then held out his hand. "How about a new start? Name's Spike."  
  
Buffy looked at the hand, then shook it. "I'm Buffy." 


	20. Business as Usual

If she was ever going to have any moment of peace in her life, Buffy realized that she needed to let go of the past. She was a woman of action, why did she spend so much time dwelling on things over and done with. She had briefly glimpsed that fact after fighting with Dawn by her side in the grave. IN the last year especially, she had spent too much time longing for the things she couldn't go back to. But it was hard, the moving on, learning, accepting . . .  
  
What better way to start anew than with the person (or vampire) who had suffered the most because of her? People can change, why was that so hard for her to accept? Spike had proven himself time and time again. He had his moments and his motivation was far from selfless much of the time, but whose wasn't?  
  
"So . . ." Buffy began, searching for something, anything to say.  
  
"Might want to watch your back, luv," Spike motioned behind her with his chin.  
  
Buffy whipped around to see two fierce vamps advancing on her. She shrugged; she'd seen worse. She turned to tell Spike as much, but saw something to change her mind.  
  
"Looks like you should be watching yours," she quipped, indicating the two behind him, plus two more on each side making eight in all.  
  
Spike raised his scarred eyebrow and gave Buffy one of his trademark smirks, "Good to know some things never change. Shall we?"  
  
Few things in Sunnydale could be counted on, but attacks en masse was one of them.  
  
~*~  
  
Buffy struggled under one of the last particularly vicious and rather potent vamps. She was exhausted and it was taking all of her remaining strength to keep him away from her neck. Slayer strength did have its limits. The minute she got out of this, Buffy was heading home to her nice, warm, comfy bed. She struggled but couldn't shake the persistent vamp. At the last moment, she found herself covered in dust.  
  
Coughing, she looked up to see Spike's proffered hand. Gratefully, Buffy took it, getting to her feet unsteadily. Spike eyed her with concern.  
  
"Spike, I'm fine. Don't give me that look. Lots of work, little to no sleep, attacked by eight vamps . . . who wouldn't be a bit tired. Good times," Buffy said as her legs gave out beneath her.  
  
Spike lifted her up with ease. "No use in arguing, pet, you're in no position." Getting no response, he saw that she was already out. Sighing he carried her into his crypt. 


	21. Something

Through the shadows she caught quick hints of flesh, but by the time she could react, her adversary had moved on-always one step ahead.  
  
"Death is and always shall be your gift," hissed the all-too-familiar voice behind her.  
  
Buffy turned. She'd known all along whom she had been chasing. The game was getting old. You'd think that after all this time that the First Slayer would want a little variety.  
  
"This is getting a bit redundant. Really, how many times do you think I need to hear that death is my gift? Been there, done that. So if there's nothing new, I would really appreciate a nice, dreamless sleep for once."  
  
"Silence," the First said, circling. "There is trouble near."  
  
"Like I said, if there's nothing new . . ." Buffy made to walk away, but the First grabbed her. When Buffy turned, however, it was no longer the First Slayer but Tara whom she faced. "Tara? Tara!" Buffy hugged the shy girl. "Where . . . ? How . . . ? We've missed you."  
  
Tara ducked her head with a shy smile.  
  
"Didn't you go-"  
  
"To Heaven? N-no." Tara saw Buffy's look of surprise. "I wasn't supposed to go, yet."  
  
"But Willow, she couldn't bring you back."  
  
"It's complicated."  
  
"The Powers, never very forthcoming, are they?"  
  
Tara smiled faintly.  
  
"What's going on, Tara? The First was here, and now you. Glad as I am to see you, I know this isn't just a casual visit."  
  
"The balance, Buffy, is upset. Willow ssstarted something a-and Warren-"  
  
"Is more dead than anything I've seen for awhile, not that that means much in this place."  
  
"Please, Buffy, I-I need you to listen. Warren isn't finished. A-and Willow, she's left town."  
  
"Willow has barely left her room in the past few months-"  
  
Tara looked over her shoulder then back to Buffy, "D-don't worry. I'm watching her. Warren's things, l-look into them. He isn't finished with us yet."  
  
"Tara, wait!" Buffy reached out, but found herself alone in complete darkness. But she wasn't really alone. Something was there in the dark, but where? She felt a push and then she was falling, diving into the portal. But she wasn't ready this time, it wasn't her choice.  
  
"No, please . . ."  
  
~*~  
  
"NO!"  
  
It was the simple word filled with complete terror that made Spike wake her. She'd been tossing and restless in her sleep for sometime, but until now it hadn't seemed more than aggravated motions of sleep. Buffy was gripping the bed like it was her last hold.  
  
"Buffy, luv," he shook her. "Come on, luv, wake up."  
  
At last she opened her unfocused and dream clouded eyes, "Warren!"  
  
"Buffy!" Spike shook her again.  
  
Finally her eyes focused and she looked at him terrified and in search of protection, "Spike?"  
  
"What is it, pet?"  
  
Eyes and head darting nervously, searching, "Willow, she's . . . And Warren's not . . . The First . . . Tara . . . falling into . . . the portal . . . I don't . . . want to die . . . again . . . Spike?!"  
  
He pulled her into his arms, trembling and sobbing now.  
  
"I need to . . . can't . . . please . . . I can't do it again . . . stop the . . . don't let me . . . go . . . help me . . ."  
  
He rocked her like a child, curled tightly against him. "Shh, Buffy, it's over." 


	22. Love's Bitch

Buffy woke up a couple hours later, still wrapped tightly in Spike's arms. She felt . . . safe? Nothing could touch her while she was there. It was nice. But how had—the dream? Oh God! No, she couldn't think about it right now. It was fragmented, what she remembered, and nothing seemed particularly terrifying. But there was Something that had scared her more than anything. If Spike hadn't pulled her back . . .  
  
She should leave, but she didn't want to. This was the place she wanted to be more than anything. Her demon insecurities threatened to raise their heads—every time Buffy got close to this feeling of . . . she pulled back. But after that dream she wouldn't run, she was determined to stay.  
  
Buffy looked at her protector. Ask her a month, no, night ago if she would ever be this close to Spike again and she probably would have staked you (demon or human). But in the blink of an eye, that sentiment had changed. She had changed, or was trying to. There were the voices tugging at her still, calling her mad to have done what she did, forgiving him after . . . She sighed, causing Spike to pull her closer.  
  
He was amazing, all things considered. He'd done some things that, well . . . but who wasn't guilty of some err in judgment or action. She had really never given him a chance, but he tried again and again to prove himself worthy while she refused to see. She'd acknowledged it briefly that day after Glory had nearly done him in, but had pushed it away refusing to see that he could be anything but selfish. You could only do so much with the motive of winning points with a person before self- preservation kicked in . . . but he had with-stood Glory's queries and rummagings and torture . . .  
  
Still, he was and always would be a creature of the dark. But that didn't stop her from loving Angel. Soul aside, how different were the two vampires really? True the chip had reigned Spike in, kept him from hurting her friends; for Angel it had been his soul, which without he was a monster. And when the chip didn't work on her anymore, Spike never did anything to her that she didn't do to him. Despite having no soul, Spike seemed to retain more of his humanity than even a souled Angel.  
  
That was it! All along, the one of the main reasons she had pushed Spike away was that tiny little difference. He was the better man. And Angel had hurt her more deeply than any of Spike's actions, including the bathroom, ever could because Angel had made her build the walls that chased everyone else away.  
  
She softly traced the scarred eyebrow, wondering when and how Spike had gotten it. Obviously it was before he became a vampire, but what little she knew of William the Bloody, he was definitely not the type prone to brawling as his successor was. That brought to mind the poems she had received recently. Not that Buffy was an expert on poetry (or any of the literary arts for that matter), but the poems hadn't seemed that awful when she'd read them. Actually, she was quite flattered. None of the other men in her past had taken the time. Maybe a hundred some odd years as a vampire had helped?  
  
Spike was the only one who never held back. He was never fearful of telling her like it was, especially the truth about herself whether she was willing to hear it or not (the latter occurring the majority of the time). When she came back, Spike treated her the same as always—she may have been brought back from the dead, but she was still Buffy. He didn't act like nothing had happened or treat her like she was some fragile piece of glass that would break at the least disturbance. He had made her feel alive again—no, that wasn't it, he had made her feel like she had never died. Living again wasn't so terrible when he was around.  
  
Spike helped her and Buffy hurt him in return, time and time again. She didn't hate him because he was a soulless, evil creature (as she told him repeatedly); she hated him because he knew her so well and got so close.  
  
After her dream tonight he had been genuinely concerned. There was something safe about this dangerous creature that lay beside her, a duality among many that attracted her powerfully. Before she could think and knowing full well where things would lead once she started them, Buffy gently kissed Spike on the mouth and slowly deepened it as he began to respond.  
  
~*~  
  
Just as things were starting to heat up, Spike opened his eyes and pulled back.  
  
"Bloody hell! Slayer, what do you think you're doing?!"  
  
"Well, I was kissing you."  
  
He rolled his eyes.  
  
"Spike, I—"  
  
He put a finger to her lips. "I thought we were starting over, pet?"  
  
"We are, but—"  
  
"Buffy, luv, I can't go down that path again. You wanting one thing and me wanting another from all this—I don't think I can go through that again."  
  
"I know that, Spike. I—"  
  
"Even you said yourself that it was killing you having things like they were."  
  
~*~  
  
She couldn't really fault the guy; it wasn't like he was party to her internal monologue or anything. To anyone but herself, it would seem that Buffy was indeed falling into an old pattern. Time to try a new tack.  
  
In one fluid movement, Buffy was on top of Spike kissing him again. After a moment she pulled back, "Now are you going to let me get a word in edgewise or am I going to have to do things the hard way."  
  
~*~  
  
He scrutinized her carefully. Made up her mind about things finally, had she? Well, he'd just have to see. "The 'hard way' sounds appealing."  
  
"Thought so. Too bad you get to listen anyway," she smiled.  
  
"Figures."  
  
"You know me better than I know myself or ever want to know myself. And you've been right all along."  
  
His face remained neutral while inside everything was in turmoil. First off there was the whole trying to restrain himself with the Slayer putting the moves on him—very difficult. Then there was the possibility of things being the same as always—Buffy nice one minute, ready to stake him the next. Love's bitch he would not be again.  
  
"Spike, I've been going crazy the past few months. Since you've left I haven't wanted to admit that I've missed you."  
  
This was a start.  
  
"And I am sick and tired of denying to myself that you are the only person on this damn planet who understands me and has understood me from day one. I don't like needing people, Spike, but I need you." She sighed, looking at him completely open and honest. "What I'm trying to say is that I don't hate you and I haven't for a long time."  
  
Not one to look a Gift Slayer in the mouth too long, Spike conceded at last and took what Buffy had been offering him all along. He always would be love's bitch. 


	23. Worship and Sacrifice

Spike and Buffy were lost in a tangle of clothing and limbs, trying to find their way back to each other after the long separation. The violence had been replaced by pure, unadulterated need. It was no longer a battle for supremacy, but a tribute.  
  
For the first time, Buffy's head was clear. No other thoughts threatened to creep in or needed to be kept at bay. Only one thing demanded her attention and that was Spike. He was more lithe and toned than she remembered. The slight chill of the undead connecting with the living was almost too much. A marble god sculpted to perfection to the last detail worshipping her—the mortal with feet of clay long tumbled from the shortest pedestal. And she had denied herself so long, why?  
  
~*~  
  
Spike took in every inch of the woman who should be his eternal enemy, but was instead his reason for being. He had run away only to find that he could never leave her behind. Buffy would haunt him until his end. Both had loved and lost, and found in each other what they had been missing. Corny as it sounded (but he hadn't been called William the Bloody for nothing), what he had let slip to the Bit was true: he didn't need a soul; Buffy was his soul.  
  
He had memorized every curve and contour, gone over them a million times, and still they seemed new and uncharted. And her heart pounded against his chest. He felt . . . he could remember back . . . the blood coursing, tingling, rushing . . . it was the sensation that drove him to feed, not the need for nourishment, but the power taken so for granted until lost.  
  
Both were close to the summit towards which they strove, when Buffy, holding Spike's icy blue gaze with her summer green, made one simple request: "Drink me." She wanted to give him the last thing that remained for her to give him. "Please."  
  
Spike looked at her a moment to make certain that this was what she wanted, to which she lifted her chin, bearing the faint scars of an old bite from another life. Needing no more, Spike went in, vamping out as he did. His teeth slid in, home at last, and he drank deeply until they arrived together at last. 


	24. Back at the Box

Buffy opened her eyes and found Spike watching her. She smiled at him.  
  
Spike's eyes widened slightly. "You can't be well, Slayer, I think you just smiled at me."  
  
She laughed. "That scary is it?"  
  
"Let's just say it's not quite the reaction I'm used to receiving from an awakening Slayer."  
  
Buffy looked at him with a look of complete and utter contentment. Spike couldn't stand it; the sun had risen hours before, and yet the Slayer still remained in his bed, with seemingly no intention of moving from it anytime soon. He was going crazy waiting for the other shoe to drop and for her to bolt. "The sun's been up awhile now, luv."  
  
"Mm hm," she agreed, snuggling closer.  
  
"They'll be wondering where you're at."  
  
"Yup," she agreed again as she began to trail kisses down his chest.  
  
"Shouldn't you, um, be leaving?" he struggled to remain in control.  
  
Buffy looked up at him, a wicked grin playing about her lips, "Sick of me already? Cuz I'll leave if you want me to."  
  
He pulled her on top of him in response.  
  
"Didn't think so," she said, kissing him full on the mouth.  
  
~*~  
  
"And you didn't stake him, why?!" Xander was yelling at Dawn.  
  
Having both Buffy and Willow missing in action, Dawn felt it was time to bring the others up to date on Spike's return to town. So she had gotten Xander, Giles, and Anya to meet her at the Magic Box. Xander wasn't taking it well for obvious reasons.  
  
"After what he almost did to your sister?! After . . . You talked with him?!"  
  
"Well, I-I wanted to know why and then-"  
  
"Let me guess, he acted all sorry and got your sympathy. Are you that naïve?!"  
  
"You haven't seen him, Xander, there's something diff-"  
  
"Believe me, if I saw him we wouldn't be having this conversation now. If he has done anything to Buffy or Willow . . ."  
  
"You'd what, Harris?"  
  
Xander turned to see his least favorite vampire standing in the front doorway beside Buffy.  
  
~*~  
  
Seeing that Xander was on the verge of killing her little sister, if only figuratively, Buffy decided it was time to go in and face the music. Sooner or later everyone would find out that Spike was back in town and that things between them were anything but hostile. Better to do it all at once like tearing a band-aid off, less painful in the long run.  
  
Spike had told her about his encounters with Dawn and Willow, so no worry there. Giles and Anya would be Giles and Anya. But Xander, especially with Spike and Anya's tryst, was another matter entirely.  
  
~*~  
  
Xander looked from Buffy to Spike and back again. Both were still alive or existing, showing no trauma and neither seemed to be a hostage of the other- that frightened him. If he didn't know better, he'd think that-  
  
"You've had sex!" Anya chimed in. Then, turning to Giles, "See, didn't I tell you that's what she needed."  
  
Eleven hundred years, demon or human, you think the woman would have learned some tact along the way. But she was right, the two were anything but mortal enemies at the moment, even after . . . Was he the only sane person left?  
  
~*~  
  
Trust Anya to say what couldn't (or shouldn't) be said. Buffy decided it was best all around to plunge ahead with more pressing matters.  
  
"I'm glad you're all here. I-"  
  
"I don't suppose you've noticed that all of us aren't here," Xander cut her off.  
  
"Xander, I know Willow's gone. She's fine, for the time being at least. There's-"  
  
"Fine? Willow hasn't been out of the house in months. Suddenly she leaves, but she's fine?"  
  
"Tara's watching her. There's Something bigger to worry about."  
  
Giles stepped forward finally, "What do you remember from your dream?"  
  
Thank God for the British. Business first then . . . Buffy saw she had some major explaining to do when the opportunity arose. First things first, she began to recount the details of her dream the night before.  
  
~*~  
  
"Balance . . ." Giles chewed on the ends of his glasses, considering what Buffy had just told him. "Willow was drawing upon some extremely powerful Magicks, especially when she tried to bring about the end of the world. And Warren, didn't you manage to grab some things from the Trio's hideout before it was destroyed?"  
  
"Some papers and stuff; pretty mangled. They're back at the house though."  
  
"Are you sure there isn't anything else from your dream you may have overlooked?" Giles asked. "Any subtle details you may have missed?"  
  
"Trust me, Giles, I'm not leaving anything out," she shivered. "No, wait, there was something that stood out. Both the First Slayer and Tara were wearing the same pendant. Kinda like a figure eight made out of a snake."  
  
"Oroborus!" Anya jumped up and ran to a bookshelf, pulling a rather weighty volume out and tossing it on the table. Then she began scanning it until she came to what she was looking for. "'Oroborus-snake eating its own tail. Commonly symbolizes infinity or the time continuum.' Blah, blah, blah. Oh! 'Also can be a portent of apocalypses or of disturbances in the continuum.'"  
  
"Oh my, an apocalypse? Whatever shall we do?" Buffy feigned hysteria. "Thought we were overdue for one."  
  
"Buffy," Giles had that warning tone in his voice.  
  
"Come on, it's a bit tough to get all worked up about your seventh or eighth apocalypse."  
  
"This is very serious, Buffy. Universal Balance, the Time Continuum-"  
  
"So alteration of the world as we know it, not the end."  
  
Anya hesitatingly pulled her pendant out from under her shirt. "It also tends to be found on the pendants of vengeance demons."  
  
"Willow hasn't turned . . . has she?" Dawn cut in. She looked at her sister for the first time since she walked in the door. Buffy looked relaxed for the first time in quite awhile, she didn't look tormented or ready to drop from exhaustion anymore. Whatever had happened between her sister and Spike seemed to have had a good effect. That was something.  
  
"Red was restless," Spike spoke for the second time that evening. "She wants answers and since sitting around here with you lot was as enlightening as the evening news in Cuba, my bet is she hit the road to find 'em."  
  
"You told her to leave, didn't you?!" Xander grabbed him by the collar. "Things were fine til you showed up again."  
  
"All I did was listen to the girl, which is more than you've done, whelp."  
  
"You didn't see her, what it did to her, running away like the coward you are."  
  
"That's the pot calling the kettle if I ever heard it."  
  
"I should have dusted you that night when I had the chance."  
  
"In your dreams, Harris. Threats don't become you. Why don't you stick to what you do best?"  
  
"What and let you go around staking slayers with your manly wood?" Not even thinking, Spike hit Xander with such a force it sent the latter flying. Then he saw everyone looking at him, not for what he had just done, but for what wasn't happening. There was no pain. 


	25. All About Soul

Yes, the chip didn't work anymore and hadn't for some time. He'd wager that there wasn't even a chip in his head anymore. Not that it mattered. Before he got his soul back, the night he found out that the chip didn't work on Buffy, before he discovered that it only didn't work on her, Spike knew that he could never bite or fight another innocent human. The girl he had tried to bite in the alley that night, he'd had to talk himself into even trying it. It wasn't that the thrill was gone, the blood would always call to him, but the act, the attack and taking against the victim's will- for lack of a better word-disgusted him. Between being conditioned by the chip, spending quality time with the Scoobies, and trying to prove to Buffy that he could be good, Spike's nature had changed.  
  
How Spike knew that the chip was no longer a factor came about as a sort of coincidence. He'd barely stepped off the boat in the good ol' U.S. of A. when he was jumped by a group of wanna-be gang-bangers. It wasn't until he had dispatched of the fifth and final gang member that Spike realized his assailants were human, and yet he felt no searing pain threatening to rip his skull in two. He hadn't even felt a twinge.  
  
After a week at sea with only rats to feed upon, he was feeling a bit peckish. With no chip restraining him, he was free to feed on all the Happy Meals with Legs trotting around oblivious, right? Soul or no soul, he knew that he could never do it again. It went beyond having a conscience and knowing what was acceptable and not, it went to the very heart of whom he was-he didn't want to give in to his animalistic demon hunger to feed anymore.  
  
~*~  
  
"Spike, can I speak to you outside?" Buffy said pulling him out the door, making it clear that she wasn't really asking.  
  
Outside, Buffy looked at Spike, her face betraying her internal conflict. Please don't let this be another game. She fought with her old self and decided she should hear his side-she needed him to explain it to her. They had started over; she owed him an open mind. "I'm going to give you the chance to explain for once. I want the truth, whatever it is," she looked at him unblinkingly. "The chip doesn't work anymore?"  
  
"It doesn't."  
  
"How long?"  
  
"I'm thinking it was while I was in Africa," he smirked.  
  
"You were in Africa?" Something tugged at the edge of her memory.  
  
"One of the farthest places from you, luv, and I heard there was a bloke there that might be able to help me. He helped me alright. Believe me, vengeance demons aren't the only ones you need to be careful what you wish for around."  
  
"You can hurt other humans, besides me now?" She flashed on Spike fighting in a dark place, a cave, and there were flames.  
  
"I think the whelp can attest to that."  
  
"But why still visit the butcher? You've made it clear that you can't stand pig's blood. Is it to keep up appearances? To-"  
  
"Contrary to popular belief, Slayer, my world doest not always revolve around you. No chip doesn't mean that I can resume my old habits. You and the Bit are part of the reason. Like I said, the demon in Africa 'helped' me."  
  
"What happened, Spike?" Even though she already knew and had known for months.  
  
"No worries, Slayer. I'll tell you what I told Dawn: ol' Spike's as toothless as ever."  
  
Buffy held his eyes for a moment, searching. "I know you aren't lying. But I need to know. What did the demon do to you?" She saw the demon placing his hand on Spike's chest, heard Spike's scream when the demon-  
  
"It doesn't matter."  
  
Touching the same place the demon had, she answered her own question, "You got your soul back."  
  
~*~  
  
Spike jumped back as if she had just burned him. There was no possible way she could know what happened in Africa. Only he and the demon knew.  
  
"How . . ."  
  
"You fought . . . a lot . . ." her brow was furrowed with concentration. "It was a test. And if you passed . . . he'd give you what you desired?"  
  
There was no possible way that she could know what went on there.  
  
~*~  
  
"I think I dreamt it shortly after Willow was stopped. After that I couldn't get you out of my mind. So I started sleeping less and working more." She didn't mention her other dreams, the less prophetic more erotic dreams that followed. "I'm right, aren't I? That is what happened, isn't it?"  
  
~*~  
  
She wanted the truth, even if she already knew; he had to tell her the rest of it, what he'd really wanted. "It wasn't quite what I was asking for, mind you. I wanted to be the vampire I was before Sunnydale so I could come back, destroy you, and be rid of the god-awful pain that I've been in since the moment I laid eyes on you."  
  
He remembered that night in the Bronze, when he'd set out to find who the infamous Slayer of Sunnydale was. That first glimpse. Dancing with Red and the whelp. In that one instant, her completely unaware, he saw everything. Her strengths and weaknesses. And though he wouldn't admit it at the time, he knew he never would kill her. He could. He'd done it twice before and he knew he could do it a third. But he wouldn't. There were so many opportunities; especially that Halloween. Had she not come back to herself when she did, something else would have stopped him. From that first sighting it had been a dance, leading up to where they were now. He could have killed her when he found out about the chip-that's when it had all come into focus. It wasn't the chip and it wasn't her, it had always been him.  
  
"I just forgot to clarify how long before Sunnydale I wanted to go back to. And as of late, good ol' William, the poncy git, is a bit more difficult to repress than he used to be. Bloody hell."  
  
"But having a soul doesn't really keep you from doing what you used to."  
  
"True, the soulled are as likely to be evil as the soulless. You've encountered that a few times haven't you, pet?"  
  
~*~  
  
Principal Snyder and Faith, to name a few. Buffy had almost given in to that desire herself on a few occasions, which is why she was always so quick to condemn him in the past. Buffy reached up and touched his cheek, "Thank you."  
  
Spike gave a start.  
  
"First, for telling me. And second," she smiled, "for giving Xander what he deserved and saving me the task of doing it myself."  
  
He laughed at the last part. "You would have decked the whelp? One of your fellow Scoobs?"  
  
"Yes," she said somewhat sadly, thinking back on when she had taken on Willow. Even gone evil, Willow was Willow. She knew that had it come to it, she would have killed her best friend to save the world. She'd sent her first love to Hell. Buffy shook it off, and looked at Spike with a slight smile, "I know Xander is the king of lame one-liners, but that one . . . well, it's one you'd expect to see in a really bad romance novel."  
  
"Well, he did use 'manly.' I can't say as I have any complaints with that."  
  
She punched his arm playfully, trying her best not to smile.  
  
"It's the closest I'll ever come to a compliment from the likes of one Alexander Harris," he said in a serious tone.  
  
"Ugh! I give up," Buffy turned to go back inside, but was stopped as Spike grabbed her hand and pulled her to him.  
  
"Slayer," he growled, cocking his scarred eyebrow slightly. "You've never walked away from a good fight before."  
  
Buffy looked at Spike. This was only going to lead one place if she didn't- and then he was kissing her deeply and she had no thoughts beyond that.  
  
~*~  
  
Finally Spike broke away. Much as he would love to take her right then and there, there were more pressing matters to take care of. Bleeding conscience. He saw her slight pout. "Pet, you don't know how hard this is for me."  
  
"Oh, I don't do I?" she grinned, pressing closer.  
  
"Buffy . . ."  
  
"Aw, the Big Bad vampire can't finish what he started?" she began to trace his jaw with her tongue, moving up to nibble on his ear.  
  
"Slayer," he growled much like the first time.  
  
"Just one more little kiss, promise I'll bite," she whispered.  
  
He gave in at last. He wasn't meant to be the duty-bound one anyway.  
  
~*~  
  
They were slowly working their way into the dark alley when the sound of approaching footsteps made them stop. Both turned to see-  
  
"A new way to slay, Buffy?" Cordelia smiled. Behind her stood a very broody Angel and a young man who appeared to be a younger and even broodier Angel. 


	26. Hostilities

"Cordelia? Hey?" Buffy managed.  
  
Cordelia looked from slayer to vampire and back again. Not that she was surprised. The few times she had observed the two together always held the undercurrent that the two enemies didn't always have the death of the other on their minds. Oh this was going to be fun, but first . . . "Is Giles inside?"  
  
"Yes?" Did Buffy actually move closer to Spike?  
  
"Great, could we all go inside then?" Then a bit more serious, "It's urgent."  
  
Buffy led the way in, followed by Spike and the rest.  
  
"It's quite interesting really," Giles was calling down from the loft to the group below. "I must say I'm a bit embarrassed that this didn't catch my attention sooner."  
  
"Hey, Giles, you have a visitor," Buffy announced, then made her way over to one of the far bookshelves, joined by Spike. They stood slightly apart, a bit out of sorts, but, more than anything, a bit upset at having been interrupted.  
  
Cordelia walked purposefully toward Giles, assailing him before he had barely touched the ground, "You need to go to Dublin. Be there for Willow when she gets there."  
  
Everyone looked at her.  
  
"Giles, you need to talk to the Coven."  
  
Xander was the first to speak. "Your hair, Cordy, it's blond and . . . short!"  
  
She sighed. "Thank you, Captain Obvious, I'm glad to see you still focus on the important things in life."  
  
Xander eyed his ex closely, "And you know this how?"  
  
"Visions, I get visions, okay. What I want to know is why Willow is in danger of life and limb from some group of Dublin witches? What did she do, get suddenly all powerful and step on their toes?"  
  
No one replied.  
  
"Willow Rosenberg, poster-child for Geek Weekly decided to what, go out and take over the world?"  
  
"Actually, she tried to end it," Anya interjected.  
  
Cordelia's face fell. Little, quiet, mousy Willow Rosenberg? Last she knew the former computer geek dabbled in Magicks, but . . . it had been over three years.  
  
"I know Los Angeles is a bit removed from the Hellmouth, but you'd have to be in another dimension to have not known," Buffy called condescendingly from the back.  
  
"Um, well . . ."  
  
"Who's he?" Dawn asked, pointing at Connor.  
  
"Angel's son, Connor," Cordelia shrugged nonchalantly, her mind busy trying to comprehend Willow's change.  
  
Silence.  
  
"See, I'm not the only one without tact," Anya smiled.  
  
~*~  
  
"Vampires can't have children," Buffy broke the silence.  
  
Bloody hell, could nothing ever go his way? Spike looked from his lover to her former lover and back again. The pouf had some big time explaining to do. And of course he'd show up just when . . . Bollocks! Still this could prove to be very interesting. The souled one wasn't so righteous and self- denying after all!  
  
Then Cordelia caught his attention; something besides the girl's hair was different. If he didn't know better, he'd bet his crypt that-nah, there was no way.  
  
"The evidence speaks to the contrary on that," Giles broke in. "However, we have more pressing matters at hand."  
  
Everyone turned to him. The ex-librarian still held some sway.  
  
"Cordelia, any idea how much time I have before Willow goes before the Coven?"  
  
"A day or two at most. The Powers are always pretty vague in the time area unless it's urgent."  
  
"Fine. I leave tonight." He turned to the Sunnydale crowd, "This prophecy might have some insight into what we're dealing with. Also keep looking into the Trio's things. Maybe look around the hideout again."  
  
He began make his way to the back when Xander grabbed him. "I'm coming with you."  
  
"No!" Cordelia barked.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You have to stay here."  
  
"Again with the how?"  
  
"Xander," she rolled her eyes. "This is the one time in your life when hiding might be a good choice. Okay, maybe not the one time."  
  
"But I was the one who-"  
  
"Stopped her? That's why you can't go. The Coven . . . I don't know," she looked thoughtful. "You're needed here. That's all I know. And, Buffy, stop looking at me like I'm stepping on your toes. This isn't homecoming, though you were stepping on my toes then."  
  
There was no way she could see Buffy's face, her back was to her, not that there wasn't a powerful vibe of hostility emanating off the Slayer. Spike kept his observation to himself when no one else seemed to notice. For once in his life, he missed the chip, then he could find out for sure.  
  
"Giles, go," Cordelia stated firmly. "Otherwise . . ."  
  
With that, the Englishman left the building.  
  
~*~  
  
"Cordelia, who the hell do you think you are, barging in here?" Buffy shouted at her, once the former Watcher had left.  
  
"Trying to save, Willow," Cordelia returned, sincerely. "But since it doesn't directly affect the little soap opera that is the life of Buffy Anne Summers, I apparently have no right."  
  
"Cordelia," Angel warned from the shadows. He hadn't moved since he first entered. Nor had his son. Both looked like they'd rather be elsewhere.  
  
"Come on, it's always about how Buffy'll be affected," she sighed. "Probably didn't even notice Willow was walking on the wild side until it was too late."  
  
Before anyone knew what was happening, Buffy lunged at Cordelia. And for a few moments the two struggled with each other, neither gaining the upper hand. It took Spike and Angel both to pry them apart.  
  
"Luv, I don't think this is the time to work out old grievances," Spike whispered in her ear, holding her struggling against his chest.  
  
"Five minutes, just give me five minutes."  
  
"Bring it, Buffy, I may just surprise you," Cordelia nearly broke out of Angel's grasp.  
  
He pulled her tighter. "Loathe as I am to admit it, Spike is right here. This isn't the time."  
  
The two vampires eyed each other for a moment. Something wasn't quite right here. True, Buffy and Cordelia had always been barely hospitable to the other at times. Still . . .  
  
At that moment, Anya disappeared. She reemerged from behind a bookshelf a few seconds later, towing a very surprised Halfrek behind her. 


	27. The Trouble with Wishes

Anya looked around the room, holding her fellow demon firmly in place. "Alright, who made the wish this time."  
  
Dawn held up her hands, "Hey, once was enough for me, lesson learned.  
  
"Halfrek?" Anya glared the dark haired demon.  
  
"Demon-client privilege, can't divulge," Halfrek smiled.  
  
"I didn't think I said that out loud," Connor admitted from his corner.  
  
Angel turned to his son with a look that, despite estrangement, said big trouble.  
  
"Oh come on," the younger laughed, "tell me you don't want to see the two of them go at it," he saw everyone's looks. "Fight. I mean fight."  
  
Buffy snorted. "No contest."  
  
"Connor," Angel spoke with a warning tone, though there was a slight smile tugging at his mouth, "you grew up in a hell dimension. Somehow I think it would be common sense to you not to wish anything out loud, especially on the Hellmouth.  
  
"Hallie?" Anya tapped her foot impatiently.  
  
"Always spoiling my fun, Anyanka," she snapped her fingers causing Buffy and Cordelia to relax; anyone could see, however, that the almost-fight wasn't completely wish caused. "You really have spent too much time with these mortals."  
  
"So what brings you to town this time?"  
  
"What? Maybe I like the town."  
  
"Come on, Hallie, I know you've been itching to get back at us for botching your job with Dawn."  
  
"Anyanka, darling, I think the look on your lowly ex's face when you got caught in your, shall we say, tète à tète with William the Bloody was retribution enough."  
  
"You wouldn't have by any chance helped out Warren or one of his loser friends, would you?"  
  
"Warren? Warren who . . . oh him! Why would I waste my time on the girlfriend-murdering weasel with delusions of grandeur who deserved everything he got? That's more your department."  
  
"Women scorned? Somehow Warren doesn't strike me as a woman scorned."  
  
"Nor is he a child. So if you'll excuse me," she struggled to pull free of Anya's grasp.  
  
"But you know something," Spike walked over to the two demons, "don't you, Cicely."  
  
~*~  
  
Spike eyed the dark-haired demon. "Was my poetry that bloody awful?"  
  
Halfrek snorted, "Don't flatter yourself, William. The only thing it ever inspired was laughter."  
  
Spike restrained himself from backhanding his old tormentor. Then something dawned on him. "You were a demon even then, weren't you?"  
  
She shrugged, "I was having a much deserved vacation, thank you very much, until you became enamored with my, what was it now . . . oh yes, 'beauty effulgent.'"  
  
Xander snickered in the corner.  
  
"I wouldn't press my luck, Harris," Spike warned him without turning.  
  
"So he was the flowery poet that messed up your London job," Anya laughed. Catching Spike's glare, "Well, you were."  
  
"London job? What happened to vacation?"  
  
"Okay, so I was mixing business with pleasure. In both cases, you ruined it."  
  
"I thought you said my poetry only inspired laughter."  
  
"Would you let go of the poetry thing, I'd rather not be reminded that I was the subject of it," she grimaced. Then looking at Buffy, "But your current fixation doesn't seem to be completely turned off by it. I suppose you do have other assets."  
  
Buffy stood up, trying not to blush. "Rehashing the past, as fun as this is, isn't the reason-"  
  
"How was I supposed to know you would get turned that night? I had things lined up quite nicely, and then you had to go all vampirey and kill my job for me." She turned to Anya, "So your little get together with the flowery poet was retribution for the job he botched."  
  
"Hello? Anyone but me remember the impending apocalypse or whatever?" Buffy tried again.  
  
Halfrek walked over to the Slayer, "Maybe I should have seen his other assets before I sent him on his way."  
  
Everyone in the room glared at her for one reason or another. "Okay, fine. I'll tell you what I know. From what I have heard, the filleted misogynist had something on the back burner just in case. And I don't know what, really." She disappeared.  
  
A moment later she reappeared behind Connor, "Oh and you all might want to watch out for his compatriots. They aren't gone from the picture yet. Appearances are deceiving."  
  
With that she was gone. 


	28. Pairing Off Part I

"So instead of the Three Lame Geeks, we have the Dorkified Duo?" Xander laughed, despite the pain in his jaw.  
  
There was a communal groan.  
  
"It's obvious that Spike didn't knock any sense into you," Anya grimaced.  
  
"This might as well be written in some dead language for all the sense it's making," Dawn complained looking over the prophecy Giles had found before leaving. "A bunch of gibberish about the Slayer of course and some Empowered person, a Guardian of some sorts, the return of someone else, cursed, redeemed, blah blah . . . oooh, Key." Seeing that she was being ignored, Dawn closed the book with a shrug. She might not have much experience with this kind of thing, but it couldn't hurt to peruse it some more after patrolling. "I know things are kinda wacky at the moment, but shouldn't someone still go out patrolling?"  
  
Buffy looked at the clock. Oh yeah, there was that whole sacred duty thing. But her sister was right, they were getting nowhere, so why not go out and blow off a little steam. "I'm all for that. I'll take the south if you'll take the north, Dawn?"  
  
"But that means you get the docks, and there's always action down there. And what do I get? The greater joys of residential suburbia."  
  
"Exactly," the elder sister smiled.  
  
"Fine," Dawn grumbled, heading out the door.  
  
"I expect you in at a reasonable hour," Buffy called after her.  
  
"And can I expect you to not be there?" the younger Summers grinned, as she walked out the door.  
  
"Wait," Angel said. "Should you be letting her go out like that? I know she's your sister, but . . ."  
  
"Believe me," Buffy smiled remembering Dawn fighting by her side. "She can handle herself. Guess you could say it runs in the blood."  
  
No one noticed Connor slip out the door and follow the youngest Summers.  
  
~*~  
  
Buffy looked pointedly at Spike, "I'll see you later."  
  
Spike made a movement to protest, but stopped when he saw her gaze dart toward Angel. The two needed to talk. Much as he would like to keep the two apart, Spike knew it was something that had to be done. So he just shrugged.  
  
"Angel, coming?" Buffy asked, and he followed her out with a dark look toward Spike.  
  
"Shaking in my boots," Spike scoffed. Then his attention fell on Cordelia and the look that played about her features as Angel walked out with Buffy. He knew that all too well. "Hey, luv, why don't you and me go grab a couple drinks?"  
  
"Why not," she conceded after a moment's hesitation.  
  
Xander opened his mouth to protest, but Cordelia cut him off, "I'm not afraid of breaking my nails anymore. Shall we?"  
  
And with that they left Xander and Anya alone in the Magic Box.  
  
~*~  
  
Dawn was walking along the deserted streets of residential Sunnydale lost in her own thoughts. Well good thing came out of everything so far; Spike and Buffy seemed to have worked things out. But then Angel was back; she wrinkled her nose. The "memories" she had of Angel were anything but fond. Though she hadn't actually been around during the whole romance and torture that was the Buffy-Angel saga (nor would she have paid much attention at the time), she had gleaned a lot from passing conversations. To sum it up: Angel didn't impress her much. Maybe Buffy saw in him the tall, dark, and handsome romantic ideal that all girls desire at one time or another. She had to agree with Spike, Angel was too much hair gel and brooding. Now Connor, Angel's son . . . he was quite worth looking at.  
  
Suddenly Dawn sensed she was no longer alone. Pulling out her stake, she whipped around and nearly staked-  
  
"Connor?!"  
  
Fortunately, he had outstanding reflexes and caught the stake a hairs- breath from his chest.  
  
"Sneaking up on people in this town is really not recommended."  
  
"I'm learning," he looked her up and down. Catching her glare, "So you're the Slayer's sister. Angel's told me some about her."  
  
"So he's your dad, huh?"  
  
He shrugged.  
  
"You're what, like over two hundred as well?"  
  
"Well had I remained here, I would have been nearly a year old now."  
  
"That whole hell dimension thing, it wasn't a joke?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Huh," Dawn was at a loss. He was the one who had followed her; let him keep up the conversation then.  
  
~*~  
  
Buffy and Angel were walking by the docks. A place that brought back a few painful memories; major understatement.  
  
"Who's his mother?" Buffy blurted suddenly.  
  
"Darla."  
  
"Wait a second," she stopped. "Didn't you stake her way back? Of course, like many things, maybe the whole stake the vampire they go poof idea has some loopholes as well."  
  
Angel sighed. "Long story short: She was brought back-human; Dru turned her."  
  
"And so you what, felt the old flame rekindle?"  
  
"Buffy."  
  
"I want to know."  
  
"Well, I'd like to know how you and Spike suddenly became so friendly."  
  
"I wouldn't call it sudden," she muttered.  
  
"I'll tell you what I'd call it-"  
  
"Don't you dare start with me, Angel. What were you going to say? Twisted? Wrong? What about us? The only slayer-vampire relationship that isn't 'wrong' is one that involves a pointy wooden stake, some fighting, and dust."  
  
"It's different."  
  
"Really? How so?"  
  
"I'm different," he offered weakly.  
  
"You know, I used to think that, but then . . . well, let's say Angelus opened my eyes. Without your soul you are a monster. And from what I've learned about your days as a human, you weren't a shining example then either."  
  
"People change."  
  
"You aren't people."  
  
"Fine, I changed."  
  
"Still not a people."  
  
"Neither is Spike."  
  
She had to say it, "No, he's not. But he has more humanity in him as a vampire than many people I've met. Even before he got his-Even before the chip."  
  
"So you shack up with all the 'good' vampires you meet?"  
  
Buffy smacked him.  
  
Angel rubbed his cheek, looking stunned, "I didn't mean that, Buffy. It's just that . . ."  
  
"You did mean it."  
  
"It still hurts."  
  
"And it doesn't hurt me to know that you have a son? It wouldn't surprise me now if I found out you and Cordelia were together."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Cordelia?!"  
  
~*~  
  
Spike looked at the woman across from him. Gone was the self-absorbed rich girl. She was still Cordelia, but she had grown.  
  
"So how long has it been going on between you and the pouf?" he asked casually, sipping his premium domestic beer.  
  
She looked at him, "How did you know?"  
  
"I saw your face when the two of them went out."  
  
"That obvious?"  
  
"I've been there (actually am there right now). So how long?"  
  
Cordelia sighed. "Well, it took me awhile to realize things and then, well there was the whole his being at the bottom of the ocean and me ascending to a higher plane and all."  
  
"Whoa, back up a mite. The pouf was at the bottom of the ocean?"  
  
"Yeah, Connor thought Angel had killed his surrogate father (really Angel's old enemy Holtz who kidnapped Connor to a hell dimension and raised him to hate is real father in revenge for what Angel did to Holtz's family)."  
  
"I knew that would always come back to bite him in the ass. But the great Angelus . . ." Spike shook his head, laughing. "And the higher plane?"  
  
"Well, that's a bit more complicated."  
  
"When did you become part demon?"  
  
~*~  
  
"When did you become such a bastard?"  
  
Xander looked at his ex-fiancée re-turned vengeance demon, "Huh?"  
  
"I mean it. Ever since you ran out on me, you've been nothing short of a creep, to everyone. But me especially. And you treat me like I'm the one to blame for it all."  
  
"So I should just forgive and forget the whole seeing my girlfriend getting it on with Captain Peroxide?"  
  
"This is why I became a vengeance demon in the first place," Anya muttered. "You men are all alike. Self-absorbed ego-maniacs afraid to ever grow up and take responsibility for their mistakes."  
  
"Someone's been watching too much Dr. Phil."  
  
"And the jokes," she groaned. "Always the jokes. Alexander Harris only does two things when things get serious: he cracks lames jokes or he heads for the hills."  
  
"Anya!"  
  
"Every now and then you have your moments. Like what you did for Willow. You did what none of the rest of us could do. And for awhile I had some hope. But then, it's the same old thing."  
  
"Well it seems I did you a favor," he said fighting back. "Better to leave you like I did instead of being married for five years, maybe having some kids, then finding out gee, this isn't quite what I thought it would be."  
  
"The you find out I'm a vengeance demon again and the old Harris defenses come up full force. Now I'm completely untouchable. Not only did I sleep with a vampire (which you seem to almost forgive the great slayer for lowering herself to), but I have the audacity to return to what I was!"  
  
"Oh yeah? Well . . . yeah . . ." Xander paused. All in all he had pretty much been a bastard since the wedding that wasn't. He'd sorta made things right with Buffy until Billy Idol came back. And with Willow, things were almost like they had been, back before everything had gone so wacky. And Anya, he sighed, well . . . he still loved her. But didn't his recent behavior only help prove that he had done the right thing. There was only one thing that he could do, he made his way to the door. "I'm sorry, Anya." Then there was nothing but the tinkling of the door chimes. 


	29. Actions and Consequences Part I

Willow opened her eyes slowly. Nothing but darkness and cool dampness. A slight breeze whispered around. So she was still outside. Carefully she pushed herself up from the ground. Oh, not so good, everything was kind of twirly. She sat down.  
  
Her plane had arrived in Dublin early that (?) morning and she had immediately set out into the countryside to find . . . she didn't know what. Willow was just going where her intuition led her. About mid- afternoon she came across as stone circle and after that . . .  
  
"Willow Rosenberg!" a deep voice boomed from the darkness.  
  
"Hello?" she called timidly into the darkness.  
  
"Illuminari!" another, softer voice called and suddenly the circle was bathed in torchlight.  
  
Willow turned slowly around. She was surrounded by a circle of hooded figures.  
  
"Willow Rosenberg!" the first voice boomed again. "You dare to come before us?"  
  
She stopped shaking immediately. There was no reason she should cower in timidity. She had come a long way from the Willow Rosenberg of old, the good girl who obeyed. She may have gone a bit too far, but that was no reason for her to be acquiescent.  
  
"I came for answers," she announced. "And I will not leave."  
  
"Oh, you cannot leave. Until it is decided."  
  
"Until what is decided?"  
  
"Your life," inputted a familiar voice, as a figure broke through the circle.  
  
"Giles?!"  
  
~*~  
  
Time had been of the essence. Cordelia had been right in asserting that he leave immediately. Flying would take too long; by the time he would have set foot in Ireland, Willow would most likely be-So he took the only other option available, he called in a favor to an old warlock friend and was transported near the Coven's gathering place barely in time (much the same as when he had arrived in Sunnydale that spring).  
  
Giles walked into the middle and stood by Willow.  
  
"This is not your place, Rupert Giles," the voice reprimanded. "Your purpose has been served. The girl must deal with the consequences of her actions."  
  
"I was the one you sent. I should at least be able to relate what went on."  
  
"You are biased!"  
  
"But he is also of those whom she hurt the most by her actions," the softer- voiced figure broke in.  
  
"Actions have consequences!"  
  
"And consequences cause actions. Let them speak. Time is of no import here."  
  
"Fine, they may speak, but it has already been decided." 


	30. Pairing Off Part II

"Who would have imagined Cordelia Chase as a visionary and part demon?" she shook her head. "I have trouble believing it myself sometimes. I could have had a normal life with fame and fortune, and I chose to be . . . well, whatever I am."  
  
"So let me get this straight, you chose this?" Spike queried. Cordelia had told him everything from Doyle's 'gift,' being worshiped in another dimension, nearly dying from the visions but deciding to keep them with the price of becoming part demon, to ascending as it were to a higher plane. Oh and giving that up to return to fight the good fight on the lowly third rock from the sun.  
  
"Go figure, huh?"  
  
"So that makes the whelp the only 'normal' one left out of the lot of you," he chuckled.  
  
"If you mean nothing-spectacular-run-of-the-mill-human, you'd be right," she smiled. "I left Sunnydale to get on with my life, international shopper or megastar, and yet I could never quite leave all this behind."  
  
"So you can take the girl out of the Hellmouth, but you can't-OW!" he rubbed his shoulder where she had hit him. "Bloody hell, woman, I'd hate to see you really mad."  
  
"Keep cracking Harris-eque one-liners like that and you might just see it. And if you think that hurt, wait til I go all glowy demon power on you."  
  
Spike had to admit, the girl had gone from intolerable and shallow to, well, entertaining to say the least.  
  
"Buffy and you, huh? I could have told you I saw that one coming, before I got visions."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Oh, come on, Spike. The way you two were going at each other from the beginning. The boasting, the beating . . . weren't you ever a kid, or weren't things like that back then?"  
  
"William the Bloody for my poetry, mind you. That should be answer enough."  
  
Cordelia stifled a laugh. "I've spilled my guts. Your turn."  
  
And he did, everything. From hatred to realization that it wasn't, obsession to acceptance, hope to temporary insanity, action to consequences. He even told her about the robot; she nearly fell off her stool with that one. It took a full five minutes before she stopped laughing enough to let him finish.  
  
"And now you're in the same boat with me, waiting to see if they're choices are lasting or if old flames rekindle," she smiled sympathetically.  
  
"Yeah, well, what else is there to do?"  
  
"How 'bout I buy the next round?"  
  
~*~  
  
"Cordelia Chase? Whose biggest priority in high school was to be popular?"  
  
"Buffy, she's changed."  
  
"Ugh! I'm getting sick of that word, I really am. What is she now, a superhuman warrior with visions and other extraordinary powers?"  
  
Angel didn't say anything.  
  
Buffy burst out laughing. "This is . . . too . . . much . . ." she managed between fits of laughter. She wiped her eyes at last, "I'm sorry, but you have to admit, it's . . . funny!"  
  
"What about you and Spike?"  
  
He hadn't cracked a smile once. Always Mr. Serious. Couldn't he lighten up once in awhile? She discovered with Giles that day when Willow ran rampant that you sometimes had to see the humor in it all.  
  
She sobered at last, "What about me and Spike? Is it really that foreign of a concept to you, all things considered? Angel, is it?"  
  
"It's Spike, Buffy, he's-"  
  
"Not you?" she finished for him. "And you know what I've realized about that fact? I'm glad."  
  
"So, what? You hate me now, is that it?"  
  
"Angel," she sighed with frustration. "Does someone have to die in order for the two of us to get along civilly? At long last we're moving on with our . . . existences. True, neither of us is pleased with the other's choice, but that's the way things are. A lot has happened in the last year or so, in both of our cases. And I finally realized something, though I forget from time to time. This pettiness is pointless and I'm sick of it. Doing the same thing over and over. Falling into old patterns.  
  
"We loved and hurt each other deeply. But that's long over."  
  
"Thanks for the memories, Angel, but please be so kind as to stay out of my life?" he grimaced.  
  
"That's not what I'm saying."  
  
"We've tried the whole 'just friends' thing, it doesn't work, remember?"  
  
"It didn't work. Things are different now," she caressed his face fondly. "I'll always love you, Angel. But I think it's time we both started acting our ages."  
  
He was silent for a moment. Buffy was right though. It was time to grow up. "So, you and Spike, huh?" a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.  
  
"At least Cordelia knows what she's getting into," Buffy returned.  
  
~*~  
  
"The Slayer didn't always have a sister," Connor broke the silence at last.  
  
Dawn shrugged. The whole not always existing thing didn't bother her as much as it used to.  
  
"So do you remember any of it?"  
  
"Any of what?"  
  
"Before?"  
  
She stopped, uncertain. "I didn't until Willow was going to-Since then I've been remembering things."  
  
"What were you?"  
  
"I just was," she considered. "Nothing definitive. Just consciousness. And I was everywhere."  
  
They resumed walking.  
  
"It's hard," Connor spoke.  
  
"What, life? My sister could fill you in on that one."  
  
"No. It's hard accepting that things weren't always like this. That . . ."  
  
"We weren't always like this," Dawn completed his thought. "You know what's funny?"  
  
"A joke?" he ventured uncertain.  
  
Dawn looked at him. He grew up in a hell dimension, she reminded herself. One she probably could have opened. "Kind of a joke played by life."  
  
He waited.  
  
"You and me aren't supposed to even exist, you know."  
  
"We have something in common."  
  
"Yup, only on the Hellmouth can a human son of two vampires meet a former cosmic ball of energy turned into a teen sister that never was."  
  
~*~  
  
Cordelia put her glass down suddenly. "We have to go, now!" she said grabbing Spike and dragging him out the door behind her. "North end, right?"  
  
"What are you going on about?" Spike asked, trying to keep up to Cordelia's break-neck pace.  
  
"We need to find Dawn."  
  
~*~  
  
"You know, I'm really in the mood to stake some vamps tonight," Buffy called out into the calm night. She noticed Angel take a couple steps away. "Hmm, I may take that into consideration."  
  
Just then his phone rang, causing the 200 plus year old vamp to jump.  
  
"Oh you have got to be kidding me!" Buffy laughed. "A cell phone?!"  
  
It rang again. Angel just looked at it.  
  
"Phone rings, you answer," she giggled, taking from him.  
  
"It's not my fault it never works right," he looked sheepish.  
  
"River in Egypt," she muttered, answering on the third ring. "Hello? Cordelia? What about Da-Fine, we'll meet you there."  
  
"What did she see?"  
  
"Oh, Dawn's going to be in trouble," she shrugged, just barely picking up her pace.  
  
"You sound . . . unconcerned."  
  
"It's not Tuesday and yet . . . Let's just say it's not that unusual for Dawn to be in trouble."  
  
~*~  
  
"Do you ever try and use your powers?" Connor asked.  
  
"Mr. Twenty-Questions, aren't we?" she smiled. Maybe the non-normal boys were worth checking out. "But to answer: What powers? Ritual, I bleed, portals open. That's something to brag about."  
  
"You've got to be able to do more than that?"  
  
"Excuse me for only have one measly power, Blade," she rolled her eyes, but then caught his clueless look. "Boy, if I get the chance I am going to introduce you to the wonders of pop culture and Hollywood's take on all this. What about you? What nifty little powers do you have?"  
  
Before he could answer they where thrown to the ground by a brilliant flash of light.  
  
"Okay, that sucked," Dawn groaned, Connor helping her up. "What wa-"  
  
"The Key!" 


	31. Deceiving Appearances

"Not again!" Buffy groaned as she peered into the dissipating smoke. As long as it wasn't another hell god with the fashion sense of a hooker . . . Then she saw who it was and began to laugh. No definitely not another hell god just-  
  
"Bloody hell. What is this revenge of the bleeding nerd?" Spike joined Buffy and Angel, followed by a very out of breath Cordelia. "What, no Star Wars in Mexico?"  
  
"I've come for the Key," Andrew said stepping forward, appearance being the only thing that tied the confident, lanky blond with his former lapdog self.  
  
"Whoa, watch out, I think the lapdog found his bark," Buffy couldn't repress another giggle. "So where's Jonathan? Or was he smart enough to stay gone?"  
  
"Your little witch friend thought she was so powerful, didn't she?" Andrew smirked knowingly.  
  
"Wait, little, quiet, nerdy Jonathan who found more ways to get into trouble than Xander ever did?" Cordelia jumped in.  
  
"Yeah, him and two of his loser friends decided to take on the slayer," Spike shrugged with a slight smirk. "Should've seen what Red did to the 'leader.'"  
  
"Gee, Buffy, nerds after defeating a hell god, however did you cope?" Cordelia snickered. Even Angel cracked a faint smile.  
  
"You okay, Dawn?" Buffy asked her sister finally. The girl was standing a bit too close to Angel's son for her comfort.  
  
"I was scared for a whole two seconds," she replied unconcerned. "The whole been there done that fact kinda takes the edge off."  
  
"Laugh now, but you will see," Andrew disappeared in another puff of smoke.  
  
"Anyone else miss the days when the bad guys were actually a threat?" Buffy coughed.  
  
The six stood around in awkward silence for a few moments, no one wanting to acknowledge the white elephant that was what when on since they'd all split up.  
  
Spike spoke finally, "Am I alone in thinking that git that just puffed away isn't the same one that we last saw?"  
  
~*~  
  
It was the tone and demeanor of Andrew that was bugging him. The kid was Warren's obedient yes man who seemed capable of little else but obedience. But the Andrew that had just come and went was more like a leader than a follower. Just like with Cordelia, his vampire senses were tingling. There was something different.  
  
Buffy looked at him, sobered. He could see she was thinking the same thing. It was Dawn who came up with the answer.  
  
"Remember what Halfrek said? That Warren had something on the back burner and that his 'compatriots' weren't out of the picture yet?" she looked at them. "Doesn't Andrew seem not very Andrew-like?"  
  
Buffy spoke, "If I didn't see it for myself, I would say that he was-"  
  
"Warren," Spike finished. But it was definitely Andrew who had stood before them, and from what he had heard of Red's revenge, Warren could never come back. Unless, "Buffy, are you absolutely certain that it was Warren that night?"  
  
If looks were stakes, "Believe me, the image is burned on my brain. It was definitely Warren."  
  
"Everyone thought Faith was you and you her."  
  
~*~  
  
It was definitely Warren that night. Willow wouldn't have made another mistake after the Warren-bot. Then Spike's last words sunk in. Faith had taken her body. For all appearances, Faith was Buffy and Buffy Faith. Even when her friends had discovered the truth they were still distrustful. What if . . .  
  
"But they would have had to have switched before Andrew and Jonathan were carted off to jail?"  
  
"Maybe. I'm no expert on Magicks and stuff, but I do know that wasn't Andrew tonight." 


	32. A Somewhat Fluffy Spuffy Interlude

Having had enough excitement for one night, the group decided it was best to call it a day and leave the Andrew/Warren thing for the morning. The easiest arrangement for all concerned would be to have Angel, Cordelia, and Connor crash at the Summers' house.  
  
After getting Angel set up in the basement, Cordelia in her mom's old room, and Connor on the living room couch, Buffy found Spike outside on the back porch, smoking pensively.  
  
"Hey," she sat beside him. "I thought you'd be back at your crypt by now."  
  
"Worried about the Bit," he flicked away some ash.  
  
"Thought you'd be curious about what went on between Angel and I."  
  
"Oh, that? It slipped my mind completely," Spike shrugged unconvincingly.  
  
Ignoring him, "I just figured you'd be brooding back at your crypt, not on my back porch."  
  
"I don't brood," he frowned.  
  
"And I'm never in a state of denial."  
  
Spike sighed heavily. "Let me guess, the wanker convinced you I was still evil and made you see the error of your ways," he got up. "Thanks for the memories, Slayer."  
  
"So you aren't even the least bit curious?"  
  
"Not in the least."  
  
"You don't even want to know that I stood up for you? That I told him I was glad you weren't him."  
  
He stopped.  
  
"Except now I'm wondering why I did. Since you obviously don't care."  
  
"What else?" he walked back to her.  
  
"Oh, I don't really remember. Something about how he can get over things and grow up, accept my choice, or not. Won't change things for me."  
  
"Won't change things?"  
  
"And you thought it would?"  
  
"The Great Buffy-Angel Saga? What a fool I would have to be to think that that would have any effect like the dozen or so other times it's come into play."  
  
"It took me two deaths, but I think I finally figured out that life is short and what's in the past belongs there."  
  
"Who are you and what have you done with Buffy Summers?"  
  
"Very funny."  
  
Spike pulled her into his arms then. "Can't imagine he's too happy with the arrangement."  
  
"You know Angel. Just another item on his list of things to brood about. Besides, he's got Cordelia," she snerked.  
  
"Give the girl a break. She's grown up a bit."  
  
"I know, Cordelia's almost likeable now. But I can't help thinking of her as the self-absorbed glamour girl from high school. Wonder if she misses a normal life."  
  
"She had a choice."  
  
Buffy gaped at him.  
  
So, Spike told her about the visions almost killing Cordelia and how she could have had the life she'd always wanted but instead chose to become part demon to keep them.  
  
"Color me impressed. She chose to be a part of this. Can't say I blame her though."  
  
Now it was Spike's turned to be shocked.  
  
"The normal life is quite boring. Of course all I have for normal is Anne the waitress, working the Doublemeat, and life in an asylum."  
  
"This from the girl who has strove since she became the Slayer to be normal."  
  
"Well after half a dozen or so apocalypses averted and kicking the ass of a hell god, I would be a fool to want to be normal. And the super-strength thing isn't so bad."  
  
Spike couldn't not laugh at that, and Buffy joined him. He stopped and glanced at the sky.  
  
"Sunrise?"  
  
"Soon. I should probably go."  
  
"Go?"  
  
"Well, I can't rightly stay here."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
His eyebrow quirked questioningly.  
  
"It's not like we're hiding anymore. Anya pretty much took care of that for us."  
  
"You're serious?" he couldn't believe his ears.  
  
"And I didn't notice a TV at your place. You've got to be dying to know what trouble Timmy's in this time, especially since he's a real boy now."  
  
"What?"  
  
"But that was months ago."  
  
"You're addicted, aren't you?"  
  
"Me?! To a soap opera? What do you take me for, a wanna-be Big Bad who couldn't kill his third slayer?"  
  
"You so are."  
  
"I happen to catch it from time to time."  
  
"What about Sheridan?"  
  
"Well, for awhile she forgot about Luis, but-"  
  
"Ah ha!"  
  
"Grr. Fine. I watch Passions. Are you happy? It's all your fault anyway. Wanted to see what the fascination was."  
  
"It's far-fetched and entertaining. Okay, not that far-fetched by our standards. Still it is entertaining. And the writing-"  
  
"Sucks."  
  
"Well, yeah. Better than my bloody awful poetry."  
  
"I like your poetry," she looked up at him sheepishly.  
  
He kissed her long and deep for that. It almost meant more to him than anything else she had said to him since he came back.  
  
When they finally broke it off, Buffy blinked her eyes innocently. "I don't suppose you'd like to finish what we started in that ally before we were so rudely interrupted?"  
  
Needing no further invitation, he picked her up and carried her inside. 


	33. Actions and Consequences Part II

"Given the chance to go back, would you do things differently?" the lead voice boomed after Giles and Willow had finished recounting her near destruction of the world.  
  
Willow considered a moment, looked at Giles apologetically, then stated simply, "No."  
  
"I said this was a waste of time. What's been done has been done and she isn't sorry."  
  
"Why regret what I can't change?" Willow retorted.  
  
"She still deserved a chance to be heard," the gentler voice joined in.  
  
"Deserved?! She nearly destroyed the world-what else does she deserve but to-"  
  
"She must restore the balance."  
  
"She has violated our laws. She must pay the price."  
  
"You alone do not decide. The Powers have spoken. This is to be her punishment."  
  
"The Powers granted us sovereignty."  
  
"In matters that concerned us alone. But this goes beyond us." The softer voice directed itself toward Willow, "If you are able to restore the balance, you will be exonerated."  
  
"I want guidance as well."  
  
"You want?!" The first voice growled.  
  
"When I accomplish your task, I would like a guide to help me learn to control the Magicks."  
  
"If you succeed, we will review your request. Be happy that you will be exonerated."  
  
"And if she doesn't succeed?" Giles asked.  
  
"If she doesn't succeed, it won't matter."  
  
"What exactly is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"All or nothing, wayward. You tried to destroy the world, now you must save it."  
  
Willow took a deep breath, "What next?"  
  
"You and Rupert Giles will return to the Hellmouth," the soft voice replied.  
  
"He is biased. She must be monitored!"  
  
"And she will. I shall go with them," the soft voice figure stepped into the light.  
  
Neither Giles nor Willow could speak.  
  
"The Powers sent me back as her Guardian. They deemed that this was my purpose in life and ever-after. And I sh-shall nnot ffffail her as I did in li-life," the familiar blond ducked her head shyly as she had many times in life, the darkness no longer giving her power in anonymity.  
  
"So let it be." Then there was nothing. 


	34. Three Strikes and Oblivion

Xander wander through the cemetery in the early morning light. He'd been all over Sunnydale since he'd left Anya the night before. He got older yet he never seemed to change. Always the Zeppo-he was part of the group but not really essential. Like Anya had said, he had his moments, but those were far and few between. He was nothing more than a liability, good for a few laughs and the occasional important act.  
  
When he'd left Sunnydale after high school, he should have stayed gone. Just kept going and never look back. And Dawn barely ever said hi to him anymore, let alone look up to him like she did in the memories he had of her growing up. He'd blown his three chances at love. Cordelia-strike! Willow-strike! Though the two kinda went hand in hand. And Anya-strike! As for Buffy, well, his chances had grown slimmer as the years wore on. Maybe if he didn't have a pulse . . . no, that wasn't fair. He shouldn't judge, but he always did, didn't he?  
  
If he just disappeared into oblivion, they wouldn't miss him much. Dispensable. If only-  
  
Xander was suddenly in darkness, neither standing nor falling. He was nowhere. He was nothing. At last he felt-  
  
Then he was back in the cemetery, surrounded by an acre of stone slabs rising out of the ground like a forest of misshapen trees. He looked around unsure. He had been somewhere else-ok, nowhere to be exact. But he hadn't been here a moment ago.  
  
Oblivion. He craved oblivion. Then he was in oblivion. Now he was back.  
  
He shrugged it off. No sleep. That was it. But hallucinations weren't supposed to happen until after three days of no sleep; not just one night. He continued walking.  
  
His mind drifted back to the day that he had saved the world and Willow from herself. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad to have all of this end. No more pain or worry. No more psycho nerds or vampires. Maybe stopping her had been the cowardly thing to do.  
  
Yeah, that's great, go turn one of the few good things you've done in your life into yet another screw up. Sleep. He needed to sleep. Sleep kept the crazy thoughts at bay. Fortunately it was Saturday, so he had the rest of the day and another to sleep off his craziness.  
  
Xander suddenly found himself face first in the dirt.  
  
"Excellent move, Harris! When the coordination goes, you know you're in trouble," he got up, brushing himself off. Then out of the corner of his eye he saw that it wasn't general clumsiness that caused him to trip. He turned to see to bodies heaped on the ground. Ah Sweet Sunnydale, never an uneventful trip to the graveyard!  
  
He noticed suddenly that one of the figures had brilliant red hair. "Oh God, Willow!" he ran over to the motionless figure and tried to shake her awake, but she was unresponsive. He noted that the other figure was Giles, but he too was unresponsive. Last night Cordelia had said Willow was in England and sent Giles after, but what were they doing here then?  
  
"They sh-should wake up sssoon," a voice spoke softly behind him.  
  
Xander turned to find himself face to face with, "Tara?!" 


	35. Seeing Through the Fog

Everywhere she looked there was light and nothing but light. She could make out vague forms and shapes, nothing more than that. It was like looking at out of focus film negatives. Still, she knew what was out there, even if she couldn't really see it. Her attention focused in on one of the more defined blurs. The more she looked, the clearer things became.  
  
A petite blonde who didn't look like she was capable of it was fending off three large assailants. The girl seemed to handle herself like this wasn't anything out of the ordinary, just another day. The girl wasn't alone, however. Two more girls stood off to the side, bathed in a bright glow, chanting in a long dead language. A dark haired boy and a middle-aged man kept any would-be assailants away from the duo. Her attention was caught by the blonde again, a fourth seemed to be sneaking up behind her. Just as he was about to attack, a figure with catlike quickness attacked from the shadows, subduing the attacker just as the girl was turning to take care of him.  
  
"I can handle myself, thank you very much!" she shouted at the figure now standing in a pile of dust.  
  
"Right, Slayer. Were you going to let him drain one pint or two before you realized he was there," he stood straightening up, platinum hair a sharp contrast to the all black he wore.  
  
"Spike, when I want your help-" she whipped around, turning another assailant to dust "-I'll ask for it."  
  
"Sure you will," he smirked, stalking off into the night.  
  
Well, they were more exciting than a bunch of stuffy monks. Soon she would be one of this group, and she no longer minded as much. It was lonely just existing. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be human after all.  
  
~*~  
  
Dawn sat up in bed. It was the third time in less than a week that she had dreamt of her existence before. She had known before the monks did what they were going to do with her. How could she not; she was everywhere and everything. And as all knowing as they tried to be, even they weren't aware of all she was capable of. Only two beings knew of all that the Key was capable of: the Creator of the Key and the Key herself. As her constructed past was revealed as constructed, that left room for her real past to be remembered. It had taken time, but the monks were only mortal. The truth will out in the end. They could only protect humanity and the Key from herself for so long. There was a reason the Knights were sent to destroy the Key, and it wasn't to keep the dimensions closed. 


	36. Once More in the Kitchen

Angel was sitting at the kitchen island, sipping his third mug of blood. Buffy and Spike . . . it was, well, it was. Given a choice between the soldier and his grandchilde, he would take the latter. It wasn't any more ridiculous than he and Cordelia, he guessed.  
  
He looked up, "Spike."  
  
"Ah, Peaches, you're looking particularly broody this morning," the blonde vampire smirked, striding over to the fridge. Upon opening it he saw one lone unopened pint left. "Bloody hell! Not used to sharing, are we?"  
  
"Since I was the one who got it, I think I have a right to share or not."  
  
"If you're going to be such a wanker about it, I'll go get my own," Spike slammed the fridge.  
  
"Didn't feel like Slayer blood this morning?" Angel asked barely audible, the tone ever so reminiscent of Angelus.  
  
~*~  
  
Spike stood rigid. He should have known the pouf would be able to tell. He knew they'd have it out sooner or later. Might as well get it out of the way now before Andrew or Warren or whoever decided to wreck havoc on them all. Knowing full well the consequences of what he was about to say, "She asked me to."  
  
In an instant Angel had him pinned against the wall, "You lie."  
  
"Because I enjoy seeing Angelus oh so much," Spike smiled grimly.  
  
Angel released Spike as if he had been burnt.  
  
"Why didn't you ask her yourself last night? Afraid she would tell you the truth?" Sometimes he couldn't help but ask for trouble. Spike felt a slight stab of guilt. Bloody conscience. It was the ponce's fault anyway. Had Angelus left Dru well enough alone, Spike never would have gotten chummy with the Slayer in the first place, and then . . . He was kidding himself if he didn't like the way things turned out.  
  
Angel stood by the counter, hands grasping the edge as if it were a lifeline to his control. "You don't like to make things easy," he forced though clenched teeth.  
  
Spike shrugged. Silence was the best defense at the moment. He'd seen Angel on the edge like that before. It never did bode well for the one who pulled him over. As much as Angel was loath to admit it, Angelus was always there, near the surface. Soul or no soul, true nature always fought to be on top. That was the reason Spike had tried to prove himself such a badass, keep William the Bloody at bay.  
  
"If you hurt her . . ."  
  
"Thanks for the warning, Granddad, but she can hurt back." The last part had come unbidden.  
  
~*~  
  
Angel looked at Spike, really looked at Spike for the first time in a long time. There was something different about the vampire. He'd been hurt deeply by Buffy that much was plain-and Angel was quite sure that it wasn't something Spike wanted him to know. But there was something else. Quite familiar, in fact.  
  
"How long?"  
  
Spike looked at him, slightly stunned. "About four months now."  
  
Angel frowned. He should have know the instant he saw Spike again, but . . . well, naturally his mind was elsewhere. "I'm assuming no gypsies were involved."  
  
"You'll get a kick out of this one: bloody sought it out for myself."  
  
That took him back. Spike, of all vampires, voluntarily seeking out his soul. Any anger he had toward the other faded away. No vampire in his right mind wanted to get his soul back. It just wasn't the way things were.  
  
"Probably think I'm nuttier than Dru, don't you?"  
  
Chose to have his soul back, knowing full well all that came with it. How many times had Spike ragged on him . . .  
  
"Wouldn't admit that to myself for some time after either. But that's why I went to Africa."  
  
He had to be dreaming. There was no way he was standing here in Buffy's kitchen with Spike, the last creature on earth he ever wanted to be around, telling him outright that he wanted to get his soul back.  
  
"I can tell you don't believe it."  
  
"Frankly, Spike, I'm more baffled than anything. You wanted your soul back?"  
  
"Was acting poncier than you without, figured I might as well seal the deal."  
  
"It's that deep?"  
  
~*~  
  
The last question just hung there between them. Did he dare admit to Angel how much he had fallen? Oddly, it wasn't until Angel had asked that Spike finally realized how much he did love Buffy. Yeah, it had started out as an obsession, but an obsession wasn't based on nothing. If it had been just an obsession, Glory would have broke him in no time. Then Buffy had died and he had never felt a greater void. There was also Dawn. He cared for the girl because she was so important to Buffy and in spite of it. The soul was just a foregone conclusion. The attempted rape was his last chance to turn back the clock. But his true nature won out in the end. He wasn't heartless and unfeeling. The Big Bad act was just another role to hide behind. Hadn't he told the Slayer often enough to stop running.  
  
"Guess I'm the bigger pouf, huh?" Spike smirked.  
  
~*~  
  
Angel was speechless for a moment. He loved Buffy, that was true, but would he have ever intentionally gotten his soul for that love? Probably not. Angelus and Angel were two sides of the same coin-the soulless and the souled-and though the twain could coexist, the one would never seek out the other. Angelus was capable of unbounded passion, but not love, never love. Maybe there was a piece of him that had always been innately evil. Only in his suffering upon receiving his soul had he developed into Angel; the soul gave him his humanity without which he was a monster.  
  
Maybe that's why he and Spike had always clashed so much, Drucilla and egos aside. Spike, in the end, would always be the better man.  
  
"Now what?" Angel finally spoke.  
  
"You're asking me?" Spike laughed. "I figured we'd come to blows or something. But that doesn't seem to be happening at the moment."  
  
"A truce?"  
  
"I guess."  
  
They stood there awkwardly for a moment.  
  
"You wouldn't have stood a chance," Spike smiled knowingly.  
  
"Still cocky in our youth, aren't we?" Angel smiled back.  
  
"Senile in our old age? But I suppose I could kick your ass once more for old time's sake."  
  
"I accept," Angel made his way to the basement, followed by Spike. 


	37. Boys will be Boys

Buffy rolled over to find herself alone. She frowned. He would get up early just to spite her. So much for any fun before getting down to business as usual with yet another apocalypse to face. The joys of being the Chosen One.  
  
Grumbling she got out of bed and made her way downstairs. Well, if he was going to play that way, she'd just have to show him who was boss.  
  
Connor was still asleep on the couch, so she quietly made her way to the kitchen. No sign of Spike anywhere. He couldn't have gone out the blanket was still by the door.  
  
"So does Dawn have earplugs or have you permanently damaged the poor girl?" Cordelia complained joining Buffy in the kitchen.  
  
Buffy colored slightly. She hadn't thought that . . . well, she really wasn't thinking much. She opened her mouth to comment but was interrupted by a large crash from the basement.  
  
The two girls looked at each other, realization dawning in their eyes. Quickly they ran downstairs and found Angel and Spike locked in combat. Buffy made a move to break them apart, but Cordelia held her back.  
  
In a flash, Spike was on the floor with Angel standing over him triumphant, "Too old, am I?" he asked, shaking off his demon face.  
  
"Eh, I guess the cheerleader taught you a few moves," Spike grumbled, also resorting back to his human face. "Give us a hand?"  
  
Angel reached down, and before anyone could blink, Spike was the one now standing.  
  
"Should have seen that one coming, old man," Spike laughed. "Must be all that hair gel over the years. Never know what they put in it."  
  
Angel just shrugged, then knocked Spike's feet out from under him. "If not for your ego, Spike, I would swear that peroxide was dimming your senses."  
  
"Cute, Peaches, real cute."  
  
"Truce?" Angel offered his hand.  
  
"How 'bout we call it a draw?"  
  
"Alright," the elder agreed.  
  
"Sounds like a cop out to me," Buffy said to Cordelia in an elevated voice.  
  
"After all these years and all the bragging," Cordelia replied in kind, "guess they're just full of hot air after all."  
  
Were they able to the two vampires would have blushed. How could they not have known?  
  
"Maybe the fact that both of them have been bested by a girl should have told us something," Cordelia added.  
  
"Big Bad indeed," Buffy laughed.  
  
Angel and Spike looked at each other, considering.  
  
"Wonder who would have won last night?" Spike asked casually.  
  
"We still don't know everything Cordelia can do . . . then again Buffy is the Slayer and has kicked both of our asses," Angel pretended to weigh the options. "Maybe Anya could help us out?"  
  
"She might be able to bend the rules for a good cause."  
  
The girls looked at each other.  
  
"Pancakes!" Cordelia and Buffy exclaimed simultaneously. "Sounds good!"  
  
With that they ran up into the kitchen, leaving the vampires to follow. 


End file.
